


Misery Business

by little_bean



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Angst, Divine Drama, Drama, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Growth, Hurt/Comfort, Murder Mystery, Post-Season/Series 03, Reveal Fic, Romance, Supernatural Elements, queue meme: you know what that is? growth, the angst gonna be GOOD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23341444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_bean/pseuds/little_bean
Summary: After Lucifer kills Cain, he escapes before Chloe arrives. Hopefully now, he and Chloe can have a normal relationship without any more supernatural events obstructing them. But the return of his face is not so easily brushed to the side. As Lucifer struggles from within, some daunting rumors are on rise. Do they hold any water? And will Lucifer be forced to expose what he really is to protect those that he loves? (post-season 3 divergence)
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Linda Martin, Chloe Decker & Mazikeen, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Linda Martin & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Trixie Decker & Mazikeen
Comments: 74
Kudos: 194





	1. Below My Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my long Lucifer work-in-progress... due to obvious circumstances *side-eyes COVID-19* I've decided to go ahead and post what I've gotten done right now. It's far from complete, but maybe I'll devote more hours to this now.
> 
> The idea has been nagging me for a while, so I hope I do it justice as I expose it to the world. I realize we are waiting for season 5 right now, so pardon my reboot to season 3, but it's what fit the best, considering this is a reveal fic (aka my bread and butter). 
> 
> Fic title from Paramore!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title thanks to Mumford & Sons.

_"You can’t outrun what you’ve done, what you truly are."_

_"And neither can you."_

The words are distant and faint, like the warning of a man with nothing left to lose, exposed in every vein and being.

Then the sound of a dying breath echos ahead of her, and a rush of cold shoots up Chloe's spine. Running up the stairs, she enters an open room to a devastating scene.

The artwork circumventing the room appears trashed to the very essence of the word -- paintings lay shorn with bullet holes, paper seared with the stench of gunpowder, and statues lay on their sides, pieces of their bodies falling as if they've been beaten to a pulp. Not to mention the array of deposited bodies rocking from side to side in pain, groaning like animals.

In the center of it all lays a single body, motionless.

Chloe immediatly recognizes the expressionless face as Pierce.

Aware of procedure demanding haste, Chloe nonetheless can not bring herself to do anything but slowly approach. Soft light emanates in spots around him, and Chloe closes her eyes and shakes her head in hopes of regaining focus. But the lights remain. Kneeling down a few feet from the body, Chloe discerns the source of the light: bloody, broken feathers. When she tenderly picks one up, she feels a pulsing warmth; but it dulls and grays, the light fading. In her palm, the wilted specimen grows cold, eventually disintegrating to become a slave to the will of the breeze.

Looking all around her, Chloe witnesses all the feathers waste away. Each warm light dies, becoming forever lost except to her memory. One strikes at her from above before it dusts, enticing her to gaze up at the ceiling. A single cracked hole casts a dirty light back down on her, and tears well up in Chloe's eyes for some unknown reason. A feeling of a guardian angel overtakes her.

She wonders where Lucifer was. He'd been here... there'd been a faint light light over her... Then he'd taken her, and now she is back...

Chloe shakes her head once more. Her mind working circles draws an aggravated noise from her throat.

The gears are finally turning again, and she rushes to the body. Pierce has a sinister smile plastered to his face, as if he'd won some argument, even in his death. Eyes scanning down his torso, Chloe gasps. One of Maze's knives protrudes from his side, the flow of blood not quite depleted. Chloe's hand hovers above the blade, paralyzed with indecision as various scenarios and explanations ran through her brain. The sound of police sirens and inevitable footsteps escalates the gravity of the moment, and with a cutting inhalation, Chloe withdraws the knife and shoves it onto an inside coat pocket.

"Detective Decker!"

Chloe twists in her crouch, quickly removing her hand from her jacket. Hoards of LAPD and SWAT stampede up the stairs and into the room, filling the empty space with life. The policeman Chloe remembers as Private Rozen jogs to her, his eyes glistening with worry.

"Are you all right?" His eyes widen when he sees the body next to her.

"Leutienen -- The Sinnerman," he whispers. "Is he still breathing?" He kneels beside her. Chloe shakes her head, unable to find her voice, but the private is now transfixed by the situation in front of him. "Looks like he was stabbed," he indicates the wound. "Any sign of a murder weapon?"

"Nope," Chloe says, voice coming out as a croak. "No," she reiterated, level.

"How odd," Rozen says, eyes still wide. Chloe does not grace that with a reply. There is so much _movement_ now, overwhelming her senses. The blast of the bullet to her chest still hurts, as if someone kept punching her over and over without remorse. Her ears ring, and her head throbs. Gang member after member shouts and spits in the faces of policeman as they are rounded up and shackled. It is too much, it is all too much -- holding her hands to her temples, Chloe twists her eyes shut and grimaces.

"Detective?" Rozen inquires. "Detective," he repeats, more forceful. He tugs on one of her arms, bringing it down. "Detective, do you need me to call a medic?"

"Lucifer," Chloe breaths. Rozen squints. "He was here. Does anyone see him?" _Oh god,_ she thinks. _What if he's one of these bodies?_ She starts running around the room, investigating each body. Police after police shake their head, knowing who she is looking for. Lucifer is no were to be found.

Jogging after her, Rozen grips her shoulder and stops her in her tracks. "Detective Decker, he's not here. Please stop worrying. I think you need to come with me. Espinoza is downstairs, maybe you would like to see him..."

Yes, Chloe thinks. She would. This is all too much. Dumping a fiancé, losing Charlotte, finding out Pierce really is the Sinnerman, potentially starting a relationship with Lucifer, almost dying again... there is no one else she could really talk to, if Lucifer was missing. But stop worrying? She couldn't stop worrying until she saw him.

And then she'd slap him for being _correct_ about Pierce. Sure, he had seen through the man's deception, but dammit if only he hadn't acted so... _him_ when trying to convince her. Immortals, Cain... God, Lucifer was too much to handle sometimes. Why couldn't he just talk to her like a person?

That was a frustration to be let out another time, since somehow she'd been led outside. Dan waits patiently, hands behind his back, with Ella at his side, eyebrows creased with worry. Her heart bursts the second she sees them, and she rushes in for an enormous hug as tears silently pour down her cheeks.

* * *

Sitting at her desk chair, Chloe sits staring blankly at her Newton's Cradle.

It had been hours.

 _Hours_ , and no sign from Lucifer.

Chloe thought that pouring herself into work would keep her mind off of the dreadful thoughts that threatened to tear and her mind. Interviews, case review, wound evaluation... none of it helped.

And when her mind drifts to Lucifer, her mind drifts to his choice words from earlier.

_What, you knew?_

_Yes, he told me months ago._

Dan's immediate outburst distracted Chloe at the time, along with the sting of Charlotte's death still fresh, and she'd shoved that statement to the side. Now, however, time gave her the chance to recollect her memories and analyze to a debilitating degree every conversation she's had with Lucifer about Pierce.

His blasé reaction to Dan's frenzied confession rubs Chloe in the wrong way. Lucifer treated Dan's declaration as if he were chastising a child for finally discovering the sky was blue. Yet, who else would have known such a thing? And in what world would Pierce _had told_ Lucifer, in seemingly confidence, about his true identity? It didn't make sense. The two men seemed always at odds with each other, in terms of temperament, procedure... and in regards to herself. There had to be some other dynamic Chloe could not see.

Not to mention the dynamic that existed between _her_ and Lucifer now. They'd finally, _f_ _inally_ gotten past the multitudes of roadblocks, and then of course shit hits the fan. Her heart constricted. She hopes he is okay. Lucifer always ends up okay, right?

She lifts one ball and releases it, letting the metal descend. _Clack, clack, clack_ the opposite balls swing side to side. Is there some metaphor to be construed from the exchange of momentum?

 _Ugh, metaphors,_ Chloe thinks, clutching her head. If she could rid the world of metaphors, even just for a short while, it would provide much needed relief. At the moment, Chloe needs someone who could cut through the fog and pinpoint issues head on without some elaborate analogy.

Gathering her things, Chloe sets out to find Linda.

At Linda's office building, Chloe runs up the stairs, her heart beat growing louder and louder in her ears.

_I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen._

_No, you said he was immortal, and that is something completely different!_

_Is it? If I had told you he was the Sinnerman as well, would you have believed me?_

Did she trust Lucifer? She thought she did.

_I haven't made up anything, Detective._

Why did Linda have to work on the fifth floor? It gives her mind too much time to torture her soul.

_I always tell you the truth, no matter what._

Finally, she reaches Linda's office. Usually considerate about intruding in on a possible therapy session, this time Chloe can not help herself. Bursting through the door, Chloe finds the room completely empty, except for a startled Linda sitting at her desk filling out some paperwork.

"Chloe?"

Breathing heavily, Chloe stoops over her knees. She tries to talk but cannot get enough air out of her lungs.

Getting up out of her chair, Linda rushes over. "Is everything alright? Is it Trixie? Lucifer?"

Shaking and nodding her head, Chloe knows her answers must be confusing Linda. Grabbing her by the arm, she drags her friend to the couch, her breath evening out.

"Linda," Chloe says, or voice breaking over the second syllable. "I'm lost." She shakes her head. "So lost," her voice brakes again.

Linda reaches out to rub Chloe comfortingly. "Talk to me."

And so she does -- she has no clue how much Linda knows about the day's events. How in the world _would_ she know?

It all comes out far too quickly. Pierce, the Sinnerman, getting shot, Pierce's dead body -- Chloe becomes lost in the retelling, bounding off the sofa, gesticulating widely as she paces back and forth in front of the doctor's desk. None of it must be making sense, with Chloe's poor storytelling skills. She jumps back and forth in the narrative, adds anecdotes on Lucifer's irritable habits, and yells out in frustration too many times. Yet somehow, she makes it to the end.

"When I came running back, the entire scene had changed! It was a mess. A mess! Pierce was on the floor, dead, but still bleeding out, and all of his goons were knocked out." Stopping in her tracks, Chloe closes her eyes. "And Lucifer was gone." She can feel a hard pressure behind her lids, but she refuses to acknowledge them. Shaking her head vigorously, Chloe opens her eyes and adjusts back to her location. Linda's office. Linda! She has not said a word. She turns to the doctor, who stares blankly past Chloe, mouth agape.

With slow steps, Chloe approaches her friend. "Linda?"

Linked blinks. Then she rises, prompting Chloe to lunge backwards to get out of her way. "What. Wait. _What_?"

Chloe's eyes grow wider and wider.

Linda grabs her head. "Wait, so Ca-Pierce is _dead?_ "

Chloe nods.

The doctor takes a step closer to Chloe. "And he _shot_ you?"

Chloe nods again.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my--" Linda covers her mouth. "I should stop saying that." She lifts her hands slightly, bending her knees. "But _oh my god_ ".

Biting her bottom lip, Chloe worries perhaps what she just unloaded was too much.

But again, Linda proves herself strong. She breathes slowly through her nose, gathering her thoughts. She blinks once, for a long time, and when she opens her eyes, Chloe can see questions already jumping out.

"First of all, Chloe are you okay? You got _shot_."

Chloe laughs through a sad smile. "I'm fine. I was wearing a protective vest. Besides, I got checked out."

Linda nods, turning back to the couch. "Good, good." She sat down, deep in thought, hand to her chin. Chloe follows her, eyeing the woman carefully. Had she not heard her? "And Pierce. He's dead." Linda repeats.

Chloe nods, again. "Yes."

"You're _positive_ he's for sure dead?" Linda asks.

Now Chloe worries once more about her friend's wellbeing. "Very positive. I saw him get put into a body bag."

Linda lets out a long exhale. "Wow."

"I know," Chloe agrees. She taps her knee once, twice, three times, before side-eyeing Linda. "You did hear the part were I said Pierce ended up being the Sinnerman, right?"

Linda tilts her head, and then her eyes grow wide. "Oh! Yes, yes, that's _s_ _ooo_ crazy!" She slaps Chloe's leg."What a crazy turn of events! I never would have guessed that. Good on Dan for figuring that one out, especially in such a hard time for him." Gathering herself, Linda brushes her hair to the side. "So, what now? You said Lucifer is missing as well?"

Linda's weird reaction aside, Chloe relaxes now that someone else is fully in on her life's insanity. "Yeah. Yeah, Lucifer is missing. I'm really concerned. He was there when I got shot, and somehow... I know this is going to sound really crazy, but we ended up on top of a super tall building. And then I looked away, _just_ for a slip second, and--" Chloe stops, as the tears were returning. "And he was gone. I haven't seen him since."

"No, that doesn't sound crazy, not with Lucifer involved," Linda assures her.

Rolling in her lips, Chloe shakes her head, eyes turning red.

"I'm just so worried. If he doesn't reach out soon, or suddenly appear like he sometimes does, I don't know what I'll do." Chloe's voice finally breaks, and she tilts her head down to hide.

Linda shifts closer, wrapping Chloe in a hug. She brings the detective's head to hers, saying "I know. I understand. But I'm sure he'll come back. He always --"

_Bam!_

Linda's door swings open, and the two women turn in fright. Head haunched towards the ground so Chloe could only see the top of his brunette head, a man grips on the door as if it were his lifeline. And maybe it is -- the black suit he wears barely holds onto his body as it contains hole after hole, rip after rip. It seems every breath causes him pain, but as Chloe scans the few areas of exposed skin, she cannot see any marks or damage.

And then he lifts his head.

"Lucifer?" Chloe breathes.

"Lucifer!" Linda exclaims, reacting first. She runs to his side, trying to help him off the support of the door. It looks comical, the five-foot-nothing woman hefting a man that feels like he weights like a block of metal.

"Doctor," Lucifer chokes. "You have to help me."

"Of course, of course," Linda says. She starts guiding him towards the couch, somehow keeping Lucifer from dragging on the ground. He does help, with one hand outstretched acting like a crutch, but even that seems to hurt him.

Chloe stood, still too shocked to say anything else. As Linda half-lifts, half-tosses Lucifer on the couch, she tries to arrange him on his back.

"No, no," he protests, flipping around. "I can't, it hurts to much." He shifts on the couch, grimacing in pain as he snagged a pillow for head support.

"Lucifer!" Chloe steps in. "What happened?"

Lucifer's eyes pop open. "Detective?" He twists in pain, eyes widening even more when he sees her. "Detective, what are you doing here?"

"I--I needed to talk to someone. Since you were gone. You were _missing_ , Lucifer. Why are _you_ here?" She examines his body. Every limb shakes uncontrollably, but still, she can see no scratches or abrasions.

However, in his hand, Lucifer clutches a patch of feathers... white feathers, just like the ones she'd seen before. "And where did you get those?" She points to Lucifer's hand.

His brown eyes, usually so suave and sure, turn from surprise to panic. "After I... after we confronted Pierce, I got hurt. My win--" He shoots a look at Linda, then back again at Chloe. "My back. I got hurt in my back." He winces. "Please, it hurts too much. Please, help me doctor," he drops his head onto the pillow.

Lucifer's begging tears to Chloe's core. She's never seen him like this, ever. "I can help, too. Linda, what do you need?"

Linda stands above Lucifer's body, hands reaching out to his suit. Chloe understands her motion. "I can help undress him!" She reaches out towards Lucifer.

"No!" Linda shouts. Chloe juts back. "No." Linda steps in front of Chloe, apologetic. "The best thing you can do for him now, is to leave. I can handle this."

"Leave?" Chloe asks, astounded. "You expect me to leave my partner my--" _what_ was _h_ _e know to her?_ "--Lucifer, who is obviously in a lot of pain, after we just went through a life-or-death experience together? At least let me call 9-1-1!"

"No!" Linda shouts again. "Please. He needs you to go."

Chloe looks over Linda's shoulder. Lucifer's hair sticks to his pale, sweaty forehead, as he dozes off into an induced state of unconsciousness. How can she leave him?

She looks down at Linda. "You really want me to go?"

"I'm sorry Chloe, but yes." She starts gently pushing Chloe towards the door.

"And you think Lucifer wants me to go?"

Linda smiles. "No, Chloe. Of course he doesn't. But he needs you too. Please." She holds the door for Chloe.

Chloe sighs. "Okay. Fine. I'll leave." She grips the doorway. "But text me for _any_ updates. Get him to a hospital, as soon as you can!"

"Anything you need," Linda says. With a shove, she forces Chloe to step away from the door. "You get some rest too."

And with that, Linda shuts the door in Chloe's face, leaving Chloe to once again worry about her partner.

* * *

Knowing waiting in front of Linda's office would simply be torturous, Chloe relents and goes home. The drive is excruciating, not being able to check her phone or send any messages while her hands are on the wheel. She must've tapped on and off the radio ten times in her fidgeting, but listening to pop music seemed boorish while the health of her partner hangs on the edge.

Home ends up being no better. Dan being at work and the school day still in session left the apartment grossly empty. Longing for a fidget, Chloe begins an extreme cleanse of her living space. She starts with Trixie's room, picking up all seven of her bed-locked plushies, arranging them just as her daughter prefers. Moving on to the shared living space, Chloe arranges all the remnants of a long-gone Pictionary night. Piles of clothes lay everywhere somehow, and Chloe grumbles as she picks up leather piece after leather piece. Maze certainly is a piece of work, having Chloe clean up after her, time and time again.

Chloe gasps. Patting her coat, she freezes when her fingers brush on cold metal. Maze's knife. She'd completely forgotten.

Forcing her hand steady, Chloe reveals the deadly object from her inside pocket. The blood has dried to an eerie mahogany against the onyx metal.

She pulls out the knife, letting it hand precariously between her forefinger and thumb. Rushing to the sink, Chloe tosses the blade into a left behind bowl and sears it with hot water, hoping to melt off the blood. Chloe stares into the vat of liquid as it steadily fills up the basin. Bubbles form as the water crashes down, rising in anger and frustration. Chloe can practically feel them trickle up her back, begging for an exit to release their steam. But there's no where to go. No one to turn to. No one who could really, *truly* understand.

Snatching the sponge, Chloe goes to town on the blade. She scrubs it with all of her might, will all the elbow grease she can muster. Her chest pounds in protest, the bruise of the bullet still smarting, but Chloe has to do *something*. *Anything* to get her mind of Lucifer, who might be bleeding out on Linda's couch as she thinks. Bleeding out, without her at his side.

Tears erupt from Chloe's eyes, and she lets them freefall into the sink.

She has to deal with Mazikeen. Maze had been acting weird lately, but she thought after making Trixie cry, the woman would get over herself. Trixie had recovered quickly enough, but it seemed like Maze had the emotional maturity of a three year old. And now Chloe is the only one who knows how incriminating she appears? Who should she tell, Lucifer? What would she say? That his best friend might have killed his self-appointed rival? How could she say that to any man, much less to Lucifer, in his current state? If he even recovers from his current state?

She grips the side of the sink, bowing over the counter. Her plan of cleaning completely backfired, and the rabbit hole could not have been dove into any farther. The reality of the situation keeps hitting her, unrelenting. A dead, dirty cop. An encounter with death. An injured partner. A guilty roommate. Why was life so lenient to others, while it threw a poor hand to her?

Clearly visiting the doctor did not helped. This is bigger than a one-session problem. Chloe needs more than a therapy session, with a professional or friend, or a friend who is a professional. She needs Lucifer.

Chloe's phone blips. It's Linda.

_Just left him at the penthouse._

Sniping the knife in from the sink, Chloe tucks the weapon under her bed's pillow before dashing out the door and speeding to Lux.

Thanking some god above for the daytime and lack of a line outside the nightclub, Chloe tosses her keys to the 24-hour valet for the first time without a Lucifer eye-roll and key-stealing attempt and makes her way up to the top floor of Lucifer's home. When she first pops out of the elevator, it seems like there has not been anyone in the penthouse in ages. The pace is spotless, reflecting Lucifer's fastidiousness. Then she sees a foot sticking out from under the sheets in the next room, and Chloe runs over to the bed. Linda had tucked in the poor creature nice and tight, like a child, with the covers pulled all the way to his chin. Yet Lucifer somehow shimmied out one foot free.

His chest rises and falls smoothly, and all signs of pain are absent from his face. He looks eons younger in this state, and Chloe has no desire to wake him up and break the spell. But Lucifer, with his uncanny senses, inhales sharply and jolts awake.

Before he can start panicking, Chloe arches forward, brushing his shoulder. "Lucifer. Don't worry. It's just me."

"Detective." Lucifer relaxes back into the mattress, molding his body to the infinite thread-counted bedspread.

"Are you okay?" Chloe asks. "You looked really shaken up in Linda's office." _That's an understatement if I've ever heard one_ , Chloe thinks to herself.

Lucifer grimaces a charming smile at Chloe. "Oh, it's perfectly fine. I only got shot a few times in the back, nothing to worry about."

"Perfectly fine?" Chloe stands, aghast. "Lucifer, that sounds awful! How did that even happen?"

He reaches up to her, flapping his wrist lazily in the air. "Please, don't anguish over it. After you left, Linda stayed with me until I felt better. Unfortunately, I still feel quite depleted in energy. Just a little bit of rest, and I'll be good as new. The biggest tragedy are the shreds that became of my suit. Not even Tim Gunn could get that to work."

Chloe shakes her head. "You're sure you don't need to go to a hospital?"

"Quite," Lucifer affirms. "Pain might be moderately foreign to me, but I'll get through it." Closing his eyes, he lets his head bob into the pillow. "So what _really_ brings you here?"

Chloe scrunches her eyebrows. "What brings me here? I was concerned for you, of course. I wanted to see you. Be with you. Why do you think there is another reason?"

He half-shrugs to the best of his ability under the sheets. "Maybe you really did want to check on me. I suppose that's a possibility. But I thought you wanted to talk about Pierce, considering he was indeed the Sinnerman." Chloe swallows, and Lucifer looks away. "I don't know what you saw back there. But if you have questions, as I am sure you do--"

Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose, completely unclear about what Lucifer is rambling about. So, summoning courage, she decides to shut him up. Turning his face to hers, she gives him a soft, long kiss. Lucifer stops in the middle of his sentence, but he feels strained under her touch, unsure. Chloe pulls away, overcome with shame.

"I'm sorry. That's clearly not what you wanted--needed--from me. I'll just go now, I--" she turns away.

With alarming speed, Lucifer grabs her wrist before she exits his arm range. "No. Detective. I'm sorry. I just figured, after everything, you wouldn't... you would have changed your mind."

"Don't be ridiculous," Chloe says, letting Lucifer draw her back in. "What I said before stands. What you think you are, I don't see. So no more Devil talk, no more immortal talk. Okay?"

Lucifer smiles at Chloe in answer, eyes unreadable. She assumes that's a yes.

"And... regarding what happened at the loft. We should talk about it, but we don't have to now." Kneeling at his bedside, Chloe lets her smile crease her eyes as she holds on dearly to his dry hand. With her free hand, she rubs his shoulder as if that offers some relief. Lucifer's Adam's Apple bobs as he contemplates her words.

"Detective, I am..." he trails off, the first time she's witnessed Lucifer have a lack of words to say. "Truly apologetic regarding the events of the Lieutenant's death."

The mention of Pierce's title stings Chloe, her wound still vulnerable to the subject. She forces her face to remain impassive, at least she hoped it is.

"I appreciate it, Lucifer, but I'm not. Considering what he was."

"The Sinnerman?" Lucifer assumes.

"A murderer," Chloe says, voice losing all emotion. Lucifer stares, the only reaction being his pupils constricting. Whatever his thoughts are, Chloe does not care to hear them. He tried warning her, and she had chalked it up tp jealously. His "I Told You Sos" would be unnecessary and painful. At least he keeps quiet for now. From exhaustion or consideration, Chloe will never know.

This does make her wonder what else he says is also true.

But she came for comfort and understanding, not patronization.

But she thinks now is not appropriate to unload herself onto Lucifer, no matter how strong he claims his resolve is. She can hold is in, for one night. She can do this. Her previous breakdown in her apartment might point to otherwise, but she can do it, if she does it for Lucifer.

"I'll let you get some rest. Call me if you need anything." She pecks him on his forehead, feeling his face relax under her lips. As she pulls away, she sees a satisfied smile grow on his face.

"Thank you, Detective," he says, voice low, already drifting asleep.

She nods, unable vocalize how much he doesn't have anything to be gracious for. She didn't do anything but place herself in danger, somehow lose him, and then do nothing to aid him when he appeared injured. So instead, she tucks him in nice and cozy, letting the silken covers hug his muscular body like a cocoon.

Before she heads out, Chloe stops by his open bar. She pours him one scotch, neat, leaving it on the counter for when he musters the energy to get out of bed.

Only now, she realizes Lucifer never answered her question about the feathers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please stay healthy, all!
> 
> (and yes... I headcannon that Lucifer's ring is made out of the same material as Maze's knives... but possibly more on that later...)


	2. In the Lap of the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our duo tries to get along with their life. But it's never that simple with them, is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the one and only her majesty the Queen :)

The flames rise all around him, becoming ever-consuming. They roar in his ears, growing louder and louder, yet still unable to drown the whispers that plague him every night. The firelight dances, jeers, and jests, poking at his skin. Finding himself naked, Lucifer attempts to cover his body with his limbs, overcome with an uncharacteristic sense of shame. What was he doing here?

The fire laughs at his embarrassment and singes his exposed parts. He expects the touch to come with a burst of pain, but it just absorbs into his body.

Now gazing at his hand in wonder, Lucifer forgets himself and relaxes. The flames encompass his frame, his physique, his soul, but does not hurt him. Morphing with his skin as one, the pale pink of his God-given angelic form aggravates and reddens from inside. The crimson infection rises from within, contaminating the rest of his body.

The pain hits him.

Thrust to his knees, Lucifer cries out. He remembers this pain, this torture.

Hellfire corrupts him, perverting his etherial aura. His skin tightens, scars, and curls before his very eyes. His nails thicken and sharpen, lengthening out to stroke the ground that he know reigns over. The wings that were forced out of their divine plane of existence snap.

Lucifer is caught off from his Father.

Curling his fists in the flames, Lucifer grinds his teeth before facing the being who did this to him. His tormenter, oppressor, his enemy.

He looks up, preparing himself to see his Father gazing down in return, impassive.

Instead, Lucifer stares right back.

Blinking his eyes open, Lucifer sits up, torso working hard. Beads of sweat drip down his chest, and have soaked his bed sheets. He twitches his head around like a small animal, attempting to get an understanding of his surroundings. But he's in his penthouse. Alone.

All alone.

Sighing, Lucifer holds his temples with one hand, squeezing hard. The last day or so --he is not entirely sure how long he's been out of commission-- have been crazy, even for his standards.

After keeping his word and finding a way to kill Cain, Lucifer had thought he'd finally gotten everything he'd ever wanted. Closure with father. His rightful wings. Closure.

Chloe.

But then Cain had laughed in his face, and Lucifer knew why. He could feel it in his bones.

And in a panic, he flew away as fast as he could.

But he quickly discovered what state his wings were in: one that did not allow for any sort of flying. He crash-landed in an abandoned alleyway, feathers falling all around him, leaving a trail for anyone to discover. But he could not deal with that. He had bigger issues.

Despite the fact bullet wound pains bit deeper and deeper with every movement, Lucifer gripped an exposed pipe, and with a roar rolled his wings back into his back. When he released the plumbing, the diameter was about one eighth the size it had previously been.

He needed help, that much was obvious. The last time he hurt his wings this much, he had gotten into a fight with Amenadiel in the Silver City, and things had perhaps gotten a tad too much out of hand. Of course, with a wave of the wind his Father had given Amenadiel his full strength back, but Lucifer suffered for a decade before healing completely. Recovery time elongated by father no doubt, Lucifer figured he still needed another set of eyes.

There had been no word still from his brother, after Charlotte was found dead.

And Charlotte was dead.

That left Linda.

Vision cloudy, Lucifer set off to find the doctor.

And now he finds himself waking up in a panic, trying to recall the hours after those events. They all blurr together, the result of exhaustion and delirium. Shaking his head, Lucifer climbs out of the large silken bed, clamoring to the bar.

He finds a single glass tumbler waiting for him.

The scotch inside is room temperature. Clearly it has been sitting here patiently for some time. Pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger, he sniffs the contents.

Macallan. Eighteen years old. Sherry oak.

The Detective's preference.

A memory of a shy kiss enraptures his mind, and the rest of the day comes back to him. Comfort arrives in waves as he remembers the detective still desiring to be in a relationship with him.

She chose him, once again.

He thought she would change her mind, but she made it clear had not.

Lucifer slams the warm scotch on the table, not even attempting to take a sip. Her mind may not have changed, but something deeply disturbing has changed inside of Lucifer. His skin may be back to normal, but he feels it teasing just underneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

He needs to get out. Get his mind off all of this nonsense.

Chloe had said no more immortal talk. Right now, that's just what he wants.

* * *

Chloe sits at her desk, sifting through picture after picture. It is not healthy, she knows that. She should not obsess. She should move on, stop allowing this man from taking over her headspace. It just feels like she is missing something. Something crucial. Something close. On the tip of her tongue, she could taste the epiphany as if it were a dish on a waiter's arm meant for another table. Although the aroma wafted over her, the whole picture would not appear in front of her.

With an exhalation, Chloe shoves the photos to the side and resumes the stack of paperwork to her right. Hours into the day already, and she is only a few pages into this tedious work. Of course she misses Lucifer and his quips, but given his state yesterday, she understands why he has not appeared, nor has he texted. Whatever injuries he sustained after she'd gotten shot were substantial, and he would need time.

Chloe's stomach growls, and finding it to be well past lunchtime, she opens her prepared meal from her bag. A cold grilled cheese and grapes. A meal for kings.

"Chloe?"

The voice surprises her, but when Chloe looks up, the face matches the sound. Ella has just walked down the precinct stairs, in very un-Ella clothing. Her stained, gray sweats are frayed at the bottom come paired with a plain black t-shirt. To top it off, Ella sports large bug-style sunglasses. She clutches a file to her chest, head cocked to the side.

"Ella," Chloe finds her voice, rising from her desk. "Are you okay? You look..." not wanting to sound cruel, she decides on, "off. It's also after twelve o'clock. You're never late."

Ducking her head, Ella says, "I know. It's just... been so much to deal with. You know."

Chloe does know. Enveloping Ella in a hug, she tries to convey her compassion in tight squeezes. When she releases her friend, Ella wipes at her eyes.

"Thanks. I needed that." The women smile at each other. "I think I'm just going to go work now, if that's all right."

"Of course." Chloe steps away, giving Ella as much space as she needs. The scientist walks away, but turns back around quickly.

"Oh, Chloe." Chloe looks up from her desk, already sitting back down. "The new interim captain wants to have a word with you. They got a new case."

Raising her eyebrows, Chloe says, "Already?"

Ella shrugs one shoulder. "Guess so. I thought it was odd too, but I guess he just wants to move on." With that, she turns to isolate herself in the lab.

Gathering herself, Chloe goes to meet the new captain. The LAPD was quick to find a replacement for Pierce, finding the whole Sinnerman thing humiliating. The force practically worshipped the man, and discovering he was one of the largest, if not _the_ largest crime boss in the county is a PR nightmare.

That isn't Chloe's job, so she removes that from her mind.

Taking a deep breath before opening the door, Chloe enters the captain's room.

He appears unassuming. Not muscular like Pierce, but not undefined enough to label as nonthreatening. His hair is cropped short to his skull, making color hard to pinpoint. More formal than previous leaders, he has donned his full uniform, and maintains the formality when he looks up from his computer.

"Ah. Decker."

Peeking quickly at his name plate, Chloe responds, "Captain Zerah," with a nod. "Pleasure to meet you."

"And you." He stands, holding a manilla folder. "I'm not one for extended pleasantries, so let's just get to business. A body was found in an alleyway near Vermont Knolls. Not much to go on, and I hear you're one of the sharpest around this department. See what you can do." He hands her the case, and sits back down, resuming his work at the desktop.

Taking that as a curt dismissal, Chloe gives a short "Yes sir" and makes an exit.

Chloe fumbles for the doorknob behind her, nose already deep into the file.

"Detective Decker!"

Chloe jumps, closing the folder in fright. A blond-haired, eager-eyed officer smiles at her.

"Who are you?" The words sound too rude when they come out, and Chloe cringes inside.

"Officer Hansen," he extends a hand which Chloe accepts. He shakes it up, down, up, down, and once more. Once too many. "I've been assigned to work this case with you for the time being, considering Lucifer ain't here today," he explains, rising slightly on his toes.

Chloe evaluates him. He's taller than she is, but that's no surprise. Medium build, around what you would expect out of a cadet fresh out of the academy. In fact, she notices his soft face, not obstructed by any facial hair. Either he's an excellent shaver, or he's unable to grow any. He seems young. Too young.

Raising an eyebrow, Chloe tries him. "Glad to have you. How many cases have you previously worked on?"

Hansen looks sheepishly away. "Well... this might be my first real case, actually." He stands straight, grinning at Chloe. "I was just assigned here last week. I floated around for a while, but now I finally have an official case!" He clicks his heels together. "I promise I'll do my best. Just tell me what you need."

Chloe barely withholds her groan. Just what she needs, a rookie to keep an eye on. Better yet, _train_. She knows it comes with the job at times, but somehow in all of her years, she'd avoided greenhorns.

Deciding to give in rather than fight, she thrusts the case file into Hansen's chest. "Okay. Give this a glance, then, and tell me your first observations." She starts back to her desk, expecting some quiet.

Hansen picks up immediately, however. "Oh, I've already read this. I knew about this assignment an hour ago."

Chloe looks at Hansen quizzically as she settles back into her desk chair. "An hour ago?"

He nods. "Yeah. Apparently, it took a little bit before the current captain could pick a lead. But I was lined up for this one quickly."

Waving her hand in acceptance, Chloe says, "Okay. So what do you got?"

Hansen snags the chair that hovers around Chloe's area, usually reserved for Lucifer. He settles into it too naturally. "Not much," he says. "I dunno how much Zerah told ya, but his case could become cold soon. No DNA at the scene, no murder weapon found, and no witnesses."

After gesturing for the case back, Chloe whips open the file. Photos of a dark alley and a crumpled body overlay the pages. "What is the cause of death, then?"

"Still being decided," Hansen says. "We'll probably get it when we arrive. But I have a hunch it's a retaliation killing."

"Oh? Why is that?" Chloe looks up, waiting.

Looking side to side, Hansen leans in, hands tucked into his lap. "There have been whispers of a new gang on the rise. There aren't a lot of details, but word on the street is that current mafias ain't pleased with the competition."

"That's quite a jump," Chloe says.

Hansen raises his eyebrows up and down. "Maybe. But Vermont Knolls _is_ one of the more dangerous neighborhoods in LA," Hansen points out.

"True," Chloe relents. "I suppose it could be possible. But we'll have to see the crime scene before any theories can really be made."

"Agreed," Hansen says, leaning back into the chair. He relaxes his head in his hands. "I just thought maybe you'd be interested, considerin'."

"Considering what?"

Officer Hansen tilts his head to the side.

"Apparently, this new gang is potentially fanatical. You know, religious-wise. Unaffiliated, apparently, but definitely devout to somethin'. And since your partner is Lucifer, maybe you would be more curious about this."

Eyes wide, Chloe grabs the officer's arm. Just as she is about to say something, a voice interrupts her.

"Hello, everyone!"

The charming voice floats across the precinct, soliciting an automatic rush of excitement through Chloe. It is quickly overpowered by concern. How is he walking like that? He shows no sign of discomfort or pain, but yesterday it has wiped him of all energy.

Before she goes to great Lucifer, she turns on Hansen. "Stay here."

Rushing out from her desk, Chloe lets loose a large smile. Lucifer struts down the staircase with a mirroring smile. Instinctively she reaches out to touch his chest, to run her hand down his arm to make sure he's all whole.

"What are you doing back already? There's no way you recovered that quickly."

Flashing his million-dollar grin, Lucifer puffs up his suit jacket. "There's no way you're keeping me away from you," he purrs, too close to Chloe's face to keep a blush from rising up her neck. "Besides, the best medicine is distraction. Have I missed anything?" Spinning her around, he pushes Chloe gently by the small of her back. It's not inherently intimate by any means, but Chloe still finds herself lingering on the warmth that seeps through her sensible work jacket. "And who is this in my chair?"

Hansen, who had been flipping through the case file, flies out of the seat. "Oh. Oh, that doesn't matter," he says, flustered, rolling the chair to Lucifer. Lucifer gazes impassively, not acknowledging the offer. "I guess I'm off this case now," Hansen says, drooping as he places the case file pathetically back on Chloe's desk.

Although he'd been bothering Chloe before, she knows it was just due to her tiredness. Sympathy strikes her as she recalls the exhilaration of getting her first true assignment. She did not want to take that away from Hansen. 

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you're still coming." She turns to Lucifer. "Actually, I just got a new case. Might be a fun one, by the sound of it, considering there are no leads to go off of." She regards him carefully, trying to find any slip up in his performance to pick on. Anything to start the conversation that's been on the front of her mind all day.

"Smashing." Lucifer snags a grape from her Tupperware. "I'll meet you at the car, then." He tosses the fruit in the air and catches it in one swift motion in his mouth. Somehow chewing it yet keeping a smirk on his face, he saunters away. Nothing. She got nothing from that response.

Cursing under her breath, Chloe gathers her belongings from her desk. Right before she runs after Lucifer, she tugs Hansen by his arm.

"No word of this extremist stuff at the crime scene. There's no reason to assume any affiliation right now," she explains, covering up her true reason.

Hansen nods, slightly pale. Satisfied, Chloe leaves him to chase after her partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Chloe's interrogation is coming soon. No one is safe, not even the Devil, in her car!


	3. Holy Grail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from JAY-Z (feat. Justin Timberlake)

In the car, Chloe can feel the tension prickle her skin. Lucifer, cross-legged in the passenger seat, gently taps his knee with a forefinger in time to the 90s radio station, his head bobbing in the direction of the window. He looks perfectly at ease, not sensing Chloe's apprehension at all. Maybe he just has nothing to worry about. The stories of his life she's been able to discern have not sounded easy -- the death of Pierce, the revelation, and their relationship's subsequent development might just read like another chapter in his multi-volume take.

He obviously does not feel the need to make small talk. Perfectly content, he turns the volume dial up and starts mouthing along to the song.

The strain becomes too much, and Chloe unleashes it in an aggressive punch at the radio, turning it off. Lucifer peers at her with surprised curiosity.

"Are you okay, Detective?"

"How are you already fine?" The question comes out squeaky and high. And much too fast. Chloe clears her throat and tries again. "How are you already feeling better?" She glances at him for a split second before returning to the road. "You were so injured," the last statement comes out as a breath.

"Ah." Lucifer reaches across the barrier between passenger and driver, hesitating just a moment before tugging one of her hands from the wheel. "I've always been quick at healing," he smiles at her. "I just needed some time alone. To let my body rest. You need not be concerned, detective. I promise I am fine."

Immediately, Chloe feels her body relax, coaxed into ease by Lucifer's touch. Maybe her trepidation was mostly hinged upon the state of Lucifer's health. She squeezes her hand in his, shooting him a quick smile. "Okay. If you promise, I trust you."

Lucifer squeezes back. His head bows slightly, and from her periphery Chloe notices his Adam's Apple bob. "Thank you, Chloe."

"Of course," she says softly. His reaction tugs on her heart. When has she actually used those words before? Not much -- if she has, rarely. She wonders how many people have said that to him, how many people have ever been on his side. Lucifer's trust issues are evident, despite his aggressive insistence that he does not have any. She is glad she can offer him some respite from his horrid past.

"I am curious..."

He glances at her, one eyebrow up. "Yes?"

Biting her bottom lip, Chloe wonders. Is this a good time to ask? He might claim physically he's recovered, but Lucifer speaks in half-truths. Maybe emotionally he's not one hundred percent. Or maybe he does not even know, she would rather not bring up any triggers unknowingly. But her experience after getting shot is so hazy, and Chloe feels desperate for any guidance.

Lucifer caps her hand with his other, tapping it with reassurance.

"If you have any questions for me, never feel afraid to raise them."

Nodding, Chloe swallows hard once. "Can we talk about that day? When Pierce... died?"

Something slides over Lucifer's eyes for a moment. They go distant, but he quickly recollects himself. He squeezes his hand once. "I figured you would ask eventually."

Chloe casts him a quizzical look. "So there _is_ something for me to ask then?"

Lucifer sends her an equally quizzical look. "I assume you are curious about the source of my injuries?"

"Oh." Chloe thinks about that for a moment. Between everything --getting shot, waking up on a roof, and returning to a dead Pierce-- she figured the question about the source of his injuries would be the easiest to answer. "I mean, obviously it was Pierce, or his henchmen," she says.

Lucifer opens his mouth, closes it. "Yes. That's correct." Chloe waits for him to elaborate, but he does not continue.

"Wait," Chloe says, lifting a hand from his. "You said you'd taken bullet wounds to the back!"

Lucifer retreats, putting his own hands in his lap. "Also correct."

"When did that happen? I'm sure I would have remembered..."

"When I was protecting you, of course," Lucifer says, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world.

Chloe has to restrain herself from slamming the break. " _Protecting_ me?"

Lucifer nods. "You fell unconscious from the impact of Pierce's shot. And you'd stated you had no desire to die, so I of course had to do something."

She can't believe what she's hearing. "They opened fired after?"

Lucifer waves a hand in the air, looking away. "Yes, yes."

"And you survived?"

"They only hit me a few times in the back," he grumbles, gazing out the window. He folds a leg over the other, curling towards the door.

"What do you mean?"

"The other bullets hit... the other bullets missed my back," Lucifer says.

Chloe breathes out. "Well, thank God for that," she says. Lucifer stiffens, but she's turning back to focus more on the road. She thinks Lucifer mutters something under his breath, but too many thoughts are whirring in her mind to comprehend what he says.

But she did understand one thing: she's alive because of him. She crosses the barrier he's enlarged between them, and twists his arm until she can hold his hand. He allows her to do so, but does not stop staring out the window. His hand feels balmy. Chloe chalks it up to the Los Angeles heat.

"You saved me," she breaths. Lucifer startles, finally turning to her. His eyes are uncharacteristically vulnerable, the brown more vibrant than ever. "Thank you, Lucifer."

A small, shy smile grows on his face. It's the same one from before, right before he kissed her. _You did choose me_.

How badly she wishes to kiss him again. He looks so beautiful, even when he's crumpled into the corner of his seat, with too perfect hair, too perfectly shaven face. He tried so hard today to look presentable, to look normal. The effort is too unmistakable, when he usually looks so effortless.

He's in no state for a kiss.

The realization pierces through her, and she can't believe she had not seen it before. Something is bothering him. The way he sauntered into the precinct. The way he's acting as if nothing has changed. He's avoiding something. Disappointment surges, but Chloe shakes it away. Lucifer has made extreme steps recently, and relapse is expected, especially after traumatic experiences. 

She'll be here for him, she swears it. She'll pull him back.

Chloe pulls away slowly, smiling an apology as she puts two hands back on the wheel. But he's emerged from the self-made suit cocoon, sitting back up more in his seat. Chloe takes that as a good sign.

She tries to change the subject, but not switch to a non-sequitur.

"When I got back, it was such a mess," Chloe confesses. Lucifer nods knowingly. 

"I can imagine."

"People were tossed every which way, and there was so much blood," she says.

"I'm sure."

"But two things stuck out to me that were weird," Chloe tests the waters.

"Two things?"

Gritting her teeth against his short answers, Chloe holds fast. "The first one is that I found feathers everywhere. I have no idea where they came from."

She hears his breath catch, but other than that, he has no outward reaction. "How odd." Chloe thinks about pushing the subject further, mentioning the feathers he'd held when crashing into Linda's office, but that seems too triggering.

"The second is... you know how no murder weapon was found at the scene?"

Lucifer's eyes slide as he glances at her. "I heard that, yes."

"I actually found it," Chloe whispers. She's not sure why; it's only them in the car. "I took it before anyone else arrived, but it was still in Pierce's body. One of Maze's knives."

A shock goes Lucifer, and he turns in his seat to face Chloe. "You found Maze's knife?"

"Yes," Chloe says, fidgeting with the wheel. Lucifer's face has tightened, and while she can tell he attempts to withhold any tells, she's gotten too good at reading his expression. His eyes are slightly wider than usual, slightly darker than usual. He's terrified.

He leans in over the armrest. "You _must_ return that to me. That knife in the wrong hands can spell danger for mankind."

Chloe shifts, uneasy in her seat. "I've seen the type before. Maze has more in her room, I'm sure. I don't see why--"

"Is it in her room now?"

Chloe frowns. "Well, no, but --"

"Give it to me," Lucifer presses. "I'll get it back to Maze. But it cannot just lie around in your apartment, exposed."

She can sense the importance radiating off of his body. It causes her anxiety to spark, and before she can think, she says, "Okay! Okay. Right after this, we can swing by my place and get the knife."

Lucifer immediately relaxes. He sinks into the passenger seat with his eyes closed, letting out a sigh of relief.

He then pops one eye open, and Chloe can feel his smirk as he says, "And maybe we can do some other things as well."

She tries to keep her reaction to a minimum, but Chloe cannot help it when she flexes her hands on the wheel. He'd touched her, tried to comfort her, but his outright acknowledgement of their new relationship status excites her. Or does it frighten her? The two emotions feel too similar. Maybe it's both

"I'd like that," she whispers. Lucifer opens both eyes, obvious desire shining through them, and a bolt goes through Chloe's body.

It's definitely both.

Both smiling and content, after a few minutes of silence Lucifer punches the radio back on. He's more relaxed than before, playing with the dials, trying on Chloe's aviator glasses, and sticking his hand out the window. Chloe lets him enjoy himself, glad he seems more at ease. And then she realizes.

They'd barely touched upon what really happened that day. And just when they got slightly deep, Lucifer had changed the subject. 

She knows he tells the truth. She _does_ trust him. But she's learned that an absence of words is just as telling as words themselves, when it comes to Lucifer.

Maybe something is bothering him. 

But he's also hiding something.

She accepts it, just this once. But next time, Lucifer's not getting off so easy.

* * *

They pull up at the crime scene not much later. Turning on her cop face, Chloe steals back her sunglasses from Lucifer, and steps out of the car. Police tape blocks off a side alley, and Chloe ducks under quickly with Lucifer's assistant.

The alleyway is much too dark for sunglasses. Chloe mounts them on her head, now able to get a better view of the organized chaos that is the LAPD. A tarp is covering a body-shaped figure in the center of the alley with the absence of the usual small yellow evidence signs circumscribing the area. A coroner stands by the feet, mulling over his notes over and over. A huddle of three policemen stand by the wall on the right, each displaying their confusion of the case in a unique way. One crosses their arms, one rubs their chin, and the last keeps scratching the back of their neck. Another pair of officers maneuver their way around the crime scene, pointing fingers, shaking heads. Red and blue light illuminates the narrow passage from other cop cars on the street.

Eyes only for the prize, Chloe strides right up to the body after snatching a pair of gloves from the coroner's supplies. Crouching down by the black tarp, she lifts it from the victim's face.

It seems this man is only sleeping. A serene face lays on the ground, much more serene than a body usually looks when the homicide division is called. He looks to be about mid-aged, perhaps early thirties. His hair is clean, as if he just showered earlier. But of course the pale, lifeless skin marks his physical state.

Pulling down the material even more, Chloe reveals his clothes. Perfectly pressed, he wears church-grade attire. A nice light blue dress shirt and a complimentary gray blazer, the only dirt specks coming contact with the ground.

Lucifer uses his foot to raise the tarp by the man's base. "Dress shoes," he comments. "Nice, but not nice enough."

But Chloe stares at the man's exposed chest. Only three unbuttoned levels, but the mark is clear as day. Shallowly carved into his sternum is a semi-circle with rays extending out and down, like rays of sunlight.

"Mr. Morningstar! Sir!" Chloe hears someone call, but she's transfixed by the cut. Lucifer makes a comment as he lets the cloth fall over the victim's feet.

"And what's your name, lad?"

"Hansen," Chloe hears the man answer with a wavering voice. Ah. Officer Hansen.

"Oh, no no no," Lucifer chuckles. "What is your first name?"

Shame rolls down Chloe's spine as she realizes she never asked him that. What primary does not even know her secondary's full name?

"Logan."

"Logan, eh? You must have been quite the charmer in high school. Lacrosse captain or something of the sort, I assume?"

"Soccer," Hansen says in a defensive tone. Chloe tries to pay attention to the carving in front of her, but what in the world does Hansen have to be defensive about?

Lucifer tuts. "Soccer. Of course. Well, I'm going to call you 'Chad' then." Chloe hears a slap, presumably on the shoulder and then the sound of Oxford shoes tapping on the ground approach her.

"Chad?" Chloe grumbles under her breath, looking straight ahead.

"Yes, Chad," Lucifer explains, not caring enough to drop his voice. "It's the proper name for any white male who comes from a well-off family and played some sort of competitive sport."

"Lucifer, enough," Chloe snaps up at him, not wanting Hansen to become victim to any of his weird shenanigans. "Look at this." 

Lucifer's figure casts a shadow as he bends down over her shoulder, and Chloe smells his woody and vetiver cologne. It serves as a mild distraction, and her hand holding up the covering wavers in the air. Lucifer deftly relieves her of its weight, and she shifts to the side to give him more room.

"How peculiar," he says. Chloe looks up, expecting him to be teasing, but his eyes fire with an intensity as they analyze the straight lines and red semi-circle. He is genuinely intrigued.

"Do you recognize it?" She asks.

Shaking his head, Lucifer says, "No, I've never seen the like. However," he bites his lip, "it does strike an alarming similarity to Aten's Symbol."

"Aten?"

"Aten! The Egyptian Sun God!" Hansen steps forward, prompting Lucifer and Chloe's attention. Lucifer drops the tarp as he turns.

Lucifer starts. "You know about Aten?"

Hansen nods. "He was a god during the ancient Egyptian times, when for a brief period the pharaoh decided to throw out the polytheistic ideals of traditional Egypt. They thought of him a sun god, so he was depicted as a sun with rays of light that terminated with hands." He digs in his pocket, pulling out his phone. After a few quick flicks, he flips his phone to show Chloe a photo.

Chloe examines the mark again, comparing it to Hansen's image. The circle is complete on the phone, and sure enough the almost-parallel lines end with cupped hands. Close, but not exact. "Maybe it's some derivative," Chloe says, rising from the ground. "But I don't think it matters that much, for now, at least. This cut is not deep enough to be the cause of death, even though it looks relatively fresh."

Hansen and Lucifer both nod, although Hansen stares determinedly at the body, while Lucifer examines Hansen.

"How do you know so much about Aten? It's such an obscure era of Egyptian history."

He's right, Chloe thinks. It's very niche. Staying silent, Chloe eagerly waits for Hansen's reply. Hansen's eyes shift from Chloe to Lucifer, back to Chloe, aware of the tension in the air. He opens his mouth.

"Detective!"

Chloe turns to see the coroner rushing to her side. His eyes are wide with knowledge. "We finally figured out the cause of death!"

"Great," Chloe says.

"Yes, yes," the coroner agrees. "Since there was no murder weapon at the scene, and no foreign DNA on the body, we decided to run some blood tests. I just got word about the results from the lab, and they found traces of _Atropa belladonna_."

"Which is?" Chloe prompts.

"Deadly nightshade," the coroner explains, raising his eyebrows dramatically.

"Deadly nightshade?" She repeats, astonished. Logan purses his eyebrows together, and Lucifer remains placid.

"I was surprised like you are," the coroner says, flipping through his notes. "It's not the most subtle poison, if certain symptoms such as hallucination or hyper-excitability manifest before unconsciousness hits. You see, it blocks the muscarinic receptor of neurons, causing --"

"Send the details to my desk," Chloe interrupts, knowing she will be unable to understand the scientific information if this coroner just spits it out at her.

"Of course, detective." The coroner sticks his tongue out to the side as he makes a note.

"Did you find anything else?"

The coroner slouches. "No. It's very odd, but the rest of the body is so clean, all we are getting his untainted DNA, which is not even in the database."

Chloe nods. "That's okay. Thank you." The coroner nods, and walks away with his nose still in the notebook, scribbling away. A thought pummels Chloe, one so odd, she thinks it dumb. 

"Logan," Chloe says, turning to the young man. Hansen steps into attention, restless to please.

This certainly can turn into a tough case, despite Chloe's gut reaction that does not stop tugging at her attention. She attempts to squash it down into the pit of her stomach, out of her mind, the memory and feeling of making a gut call before. Palmetto Street had been a disaster. Of course, she'd actually been correct. But she doesn't need to overcomplicate an already odd case.

But if there is anyone she could relieve her conscience to, it is Lucifer. He has told her so many insane things, a hypothesis that borders on the realm of possibility can not turn him away from her with a scoff.

Hansen timidly steps forward. "Detective?"

Chloe starts. She'd forgotten what she was going to ask him, too distracted by her own thoughts. But she quickly recovers. "Can you double check the area, make sure no evidence was missed?" 

"Right away." The young policeman rushes off, though both he and Chloe know he'll probably come back with nothing.

As Hansen crouches next to the body, doggedly questioning the coroner who took photos. Chloe seizes the opportunity to snag Lucifer to a corner in the ally. Without protest he allows it. She thrusts him to the wall, eyes shifting. He smirks at her, tugging at a sleeve.

"Detective, I never knew you were one for an at-work snog. But I surely shall not complain."

"What?" Chloe looks up at him, startled out of her watch for eavesdroppers. Lucifer grins at her, arms beginning curling around her waist. "No, Lucifer," she pushes him back, much to his dismay. "I have a theory about the case that I want to run by you before I talk about it with anyone else." Although she can't help but admit to herself, what he suggested is very tempting.

The disappointment that flashes across his eyes is evident, replaced by a flash of... no, it passes by too quickly. He draws himself up, nodding his head. "Oh. Yes, of course. I'm pleased you wish to verify something with me." He gestures with his hand in a circular motion.

"I don't think this was murder," Chloe whispers. "Or if it was, it was more like an assisted suicide." Anxiously she scans his face, waiting for the ridicule.

However, Lucifer seems genuinely taken aback. "Suicide?"

"I think we were meant to find the body. This is for attention."

Lucifer's eyes narrow. "You are suggesting this is some sort of martyrdom?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Chloe says. "The victim just seems too calm for someone who was poisoned. If they didn't know, there should be some struggle, some sign of fear on his face. But there isn't. It doesn't seem right to me."

Lucifer is nodding as she rambles. "Your gut is probably right."

The outright support is like oxygen to Chloe's suffocating mind. Smiling, she reaches out to brush Lucifer's arm. "Thank you. I really appreciate that."

"Of course," Lucifer says. "I never doubt your instinct. You're too sharp for anything else." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "And in all honesty, something is not adding up for me either. Or rather, it is adding up too irregularly."

Prepared for Lucifer to start making the case all about himself, Chloe asks, "Can you explain?"

As he rubs the stubble on his cheek, Lucifer's eyes lose focus. "Nightshade is thought to have been used a few times in world history, most notably with two Roman Emperors. The first, Emperor Augustus, and then Emperor Claudius."

That was not the turn Chloe expected this to take. Raising an eyebrow, she says, "And?" The dots are not connecting in her mind, as they must have in Lucifer's.

Lucifer drops his hand with a sigh. "Roman emperors were also considered pharaohs to Egyptian, taking the mantle of god-kings. Is it not odd that this man was poisoned with the plant that took down false gods of the Egyptians, and also bears the mark of a god meant to replace classic Egyptian religion?"

"What are you saying?"

Lucifer looks at Chloe directly, danger slithering across his eyes. "This death is most definitely a statement."

Chloe nods, comprehending.

"We just have to figure out what that message is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long so update. I know where I want to go with this story, I'm just having trouble getting there. But it's coming together.
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter! Any feedback greatly appreciated :)


	4. Not with Haste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title by Mumford & Sons
> 
> I know this update took longer than usual — I had final examinations, but now I’m free! Yay!

They leave the crime scene about an hour later, after relating their findings to the forensic scientist and the other officers present. Hansen hovers, aware Chloe and Lucifer had a private chat without him, although he does not mention it. But Chloe is in full cop mode now and ignores the pouting rookie. He should get used to being shoved to the side once in a while. Goodness knows Chloe went through her fair share. Being a female in an a dominantly male job is tough at is, but being the “actor cop” did not help her reputation in the office at all. And after Palmetto Street, any ostracization is minuscule in her mind. Besides, she tells herself, it builds character.

She cannot ignore the cop for long, however, because it ends up Hansen found a ride with a few senior officers who decide to abandon him for a drink at a bar across town. Although Lucifer protests, Chloe suggests he get a ride in her car after a glance at the setting sun in the distance. Hansen eagerly accepts and starts to the passenger side of the car. Lucifer coolly takes a few large strides and cuts Hansen off, grabbing the door handle and sending a look of aversion at poor man. Muttering something about how Mr. Morningstar isn’t even a police officer, Hansen slinks into the back seat.

The drive starts out in silence, with Hansen trying to keep at tight as possible in his seat as if Chloe’s car is sacred. Every once in a while he opens his mouth, but thinks twice and returns to gazing out the window. The dusk light illuminates half of his face, directing a gaunt look on his otherwise young features. Eventually the colors mix with the yellows and reds of passing vehicles when Chloe climbs onto the Los Angeles interstate 101.

“We need to ditch the lad and retrieve the knife from your home,” Lucifer whispers curtly, counting on the rumble of traffic to wipe away any sound traveling to the back of the car.

“I know,” Chloe says back, voice barely audible. “Let me think.”

Of course, Lucifer does nothing of the sort. Twisting in his seat, he shoots a dazzling smile at Officer Hansen.

“Chad,” he says, elongating the single syllable somehow. “It’s been an awful long day, hasn’t it? You should get some rest. Where do you live? The detective and I are happy to drop you off wherever you live.”

Chloe begins to roll her eyes, because of course Lucifer is willing to offer _her_ services as a chauffeur. But as she does, the rearview mirror, Chloe sees Hansen react remarkably normal in the face of Lucifer’s dazzling charm. He looks surprised rather than allured, and casts a questioning look at Chloe.

“Are you sure, Detective Decker? It hasn’t really been that long. I figured we would work for a ‘lil longer.”

If Lucifer is shocked at the resistance from Hansen, he doesn’t show it.

“Chad Chad Chad,” Lucifer tuts. “One shouldn’t refuse an opportunity for relaxation in an occupation such as yours.” He careens further to the back, and Chloe can imagine how he must be flashing his eyes, offering a signifying grin. “Now, don’t you want to sit back on your bed and watch some silly sitcom with a glass of red wine in your hand? That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Hansen leans closer to Lucifer, the affects of the mojo finally taking some effect. Then he sits back, blinking.

“I, I… I don’t think that’s right, Mr. Morningstar,” he says, sending another look at Chloe, this one more desperate.

“How about I drop you off at the precinct?” Chloe suggests. “Maybe you can take a look through the evidence we found today and try to find any connects or possible leads. And I’ll take _Mr. Morningstar_ home.”

Hansen sinks into the backseat. “That sounds great, detective.”

Lucifer twists back around in a flurry, letting out a small growl. He juts forward in the seat to reach for the glove compartment, no doubt to grab the flask of alcohol he thinks Chloe does not know about, but the seatbelt locks from the excessive movement. Lucifer growls again, snapping the seatbelt in frustration when it does not budge. He pulls and pulls, but it does not offer release, only further retracting slack. His eyes are wide and crazed, focused solely on the seatbelt now. He yanks again, and she hears the car groan in protest.

She reaches out to put a hand on his upper arm and squeezes. Lucifer jolts, then seems to realize what he had been doing. More deliberately, he pulls on the seatbelt and it finally lets go. His fit must have forced the awaiting inebriant from his mind, because Lucifer melts into his seat and looks out the window like Hansen in the back.

Hands tight on her wheel, Chloe holds her breath. These two men are starting to worry her. Hansen and his doggedness, Lucifer’s outburst. She has never been good at juggling men — not as if she ever _had_ any men to juggle. But she certainly doesn’t have the time for whatever weird dynamic is building up in the car between these two. Although she can certainly pin down most of the cause on Lucifer.

Not for the first time this evening, Chloe finds herself wondering what is going on with him.

* * *

They successfully deposit Hansen at the station, who promises to do some research on the symbols they found. Chloe adds an order for him to find any cases related to nightshade poison, and with a salute, Hansen runs into the building.

“Now for the knife,” Lucifer says. Nodding, Chloe maneuvers the car from the precinct lot and heads to he home. The tension and anxiety exuding from Lucifer grows and grows as she drives. She’s afraid that just a single word in the air will pop the bubble, so Chloe chooses to stay silent and focus on the road.

Lucifer does the same.

His intensity by the time they reach her apartment is insurmountable. He breathes down her shoulder as she shimmies her keys in the door, and bursts past her once its open.

“Where is it? Where did you put it?” His head whips back and forth.

“In my room,” Chloe says, starting to head to her bedroom. “Ugh!” She gets pushed aside as Lucifer rushes past her. Catching up to him in the room, she sees Lucifer do a quick scan, then start touching all of her belongings: pushing her books aside on her dresser, tossing clothes onto the ground.

“Lucifer,” Chloe tries to say.

He lifts her nightstand in the air, and then lets out an “oh!” before thrusting his hand under her pillows. In a brief moment he pulls out his hand and shows off the knife, the tip still red with blood. Although maybe it’s not even Pierce’s.

“Amazing,” Lucifer purrs. He tucks the knife into his coat pocket and gives it a soft _pat_. He turns to Chloe, eyes darkening significantly. He snakes a hand around the small of back, pulling her towards his torso. Dipping his head until his lips are a mere hair length away, he breathes onto her. Chloe finds her own breath has stopped completely. “Now, we can finally have some _fun_.”

“I…” Chloe is not sure what to make of all of this. She feels whiplash from this sudden transition after his wild fervor, but his mouth captivates her attention. The alluring smirk charms her, the possible actions it could commit floods her brain, and against her better judgement, Chloe lifts onto her toes to push into Lucifer’s body.

Accepting the movement for what it is, Lucifer closes the remaining millimeter of space. Electricity shoots through her entire body, her lips are hot with need. As if they possess a will of their own, Chloe’s hands start traveling up until they play with the ends of Lucifer’s silken hair. Unable to hold herself back any more, she shoves her hands through the strands and pulls.

Lucifer lets out a brutish moan and turns them around, then backs her into the bed. She topples when her knees hit the mattress, and Lucifer follows the motion by climbing on top of her. Dipping low, he attacks her mouth again and again as his hands roam up and down her side. He ignites desire from every touch, pulling her over and over again closer to him, even when there is no where to go. Lucifer’s hands get rougher and rougher, and Chloe is just about to complain when he stops to hover over her belt. He pulls away for just a moment, as if thinking about his next move. Chloe gets a glance at his eyes, and she goes dead cold inside.

What had she been expected? She’s not positive. But certainly _not_ the craze, not the mania that screams at her.

“Lucifer.” She tries to stop him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

He nods and crawls down from her, and Chloe lets out a sigh of relief before she realizes his hands are still by her belt, now caressing the sliver of exposed skin above the leather. He tickles her hip bone, then drifts down to graze her thighs. Chloe’s legs contract with the knowledge of what’s going through his brain. Lucifer shoots her an entertained look, then with a bit more force than necessary, he pushes on her knees to spread her legs. Chloe’s heartbeat pumps in her ears, the sound of rushing whisking away any of the excitement she possessed.

His recklessness is scaring her, she realizes.

Shaking her head, Chloe says, “Lucifer, I don’t think—” the words get caught in her mouth.

“It’s okay, Detective,” he says, voice low. He leans down to her left left, lips brushing her jeans as he rises back to her waist. If she did not feel so panicked, Chloe would have been trembling from anticipation.

“Lucifer, _no_ ,” Chloe says, fully pushing Lucifer away from her. He finally understands just how serious she is, and he jumps off the bed.

He looks to the side, his profile cutting in the partial darkness of the kitchen. She sees him clench his jaw.

“Ah. Apologies, detective. I didn’t mean to force myself on you.” His shoulder moves to block his face, and his face contorts in shame. He exits the bedroom.

Chloe gets up from the bed to chase Lucifer. She doesn’t want him to feel guilty about what just happened. Force himself on her? She would have gladly taken it, under other circumstances. In the living room, Chloe sees Lucifer start to make his way to the door. She runs to cut him off. “No, that’s not—”

He turns way again. “I should have assumed. Obviously you’ve changed your mind, now that we’ve gone back to work. I shall refrain—”

“Stop it!” She cries, hands in fists at her side. “Lucifer, I didn’t change my mind. It’s just I’m _worried_ about you.”

Taking one step backward, Lucifer tilts his head. “Worried about me?”

Nodding, Chloe wraps an arm around her stomach. “You’ve been acting… _off_ today. As if everything is fine, but also as though you’re trying too hard. And,” she gestures in front of her, “the whole thing with the seatbelt today. And now! Right after finding the _murder weapon_ , you go straight to…” she trails off.

Lucifer’s eyes go distant, and he turns away from her again.

“See?” Chloe gestures at him. She’s never seen him avoid eye contact this much before, avoid face to face interactions. “This is what I mean! I know you just went through a lot — but something is wrong, and I just want to help. Talk to me, Lucifer. What is going on?"

Thrusting a hand into the air, Lucifer turns and falls gracefully backwards onto her armchair in the living room. His head lays back on one armrest, his legs splayed in the air over the other. One of his arms is tossed lazily over the back of the chair, tapping restlessly on the back.

“Don’t avoid the question, Lucifer,” Chloe says, following him.

“I’m not trying to!” He says, indigent, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Then answer it,” she pleads. “I just want to understand. I want to help.”

With a grit of his teeth, Lucifer growls deeply and turns his head. A shiver shoots down Chloe’s spine.

_Has he always growled?_ She can’t recall, but the sound was practically _inhuman_. Regardless, she takes a cautious step forward. Another. Now close enough to touch him, she takes hold of the hand that plays with the chair’s back. Lucifer directs a detached look at her hand, and with a sigh detangles himself. Sitting properly in the chair, he folds his hands in his lap.

“I can’t answer the question, detective, because you’ve told me not to,” he says to the dark.

Shifting to take a seat on the couch, Chloe asks, “What do you mean?”

Again, Lucifer cranes his neck to avoid her gaze. He grimaces, as if the thought of explaining is painful itself. “You said… you said no more devil talk,” he says, quiet.

Chloe closes her eyes. _Ah_. Of course it has to do with his weird metaphors. It always does, even without a dreadful event like _getting shot repeatedly_ , almost dying. She should not be surprised he’s turned back to his analogies at a time like this. If she asked Linda, Chloe knows the doctor would say it is natural to fall back into old patterns after a rough experience. She cannot dock Lucifer for doing what is natural, only give him patience.

Clasping her hands in front of her face, Chloe takes a deep breath. “I did say that, yes. But… if you need to use that as a way to explain yourself, you _should_. I never meant to cause you discomfort, which I obviously have.” She dips her head down. Was _she_ the reason Lucifer’s been acting so weird? Has she been suppressing his true character somehow, with that one request? He’d been willing, in the moment, but perhaps it was just for her Lucifer accepted the terms of their relationship.

The living room stays ruthlessly silent, until Lucifer whispers, “I’ve been having nightmares.”

Raising her head, she sees Lucifer look dejectedly into his lap. His eyes are dark with pain and exhaustion. “Maybe they’re memories, maybe they’re fragmented realities.” Lucifer rubs his face, and he takes on an aggressive tone. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever they are, they are _awful_. All-consuming. And I want them _gone._ But I don’t know how to send them away, so…”

Swallowing, Chloe looks to the side. “So you were using me as a distraction?”

“What? No,” Lucifer says. “Well, maybe. It’s more that you bring me aplomb, I suppose.” He groans, his large head falling into his hands. “I just want to enjoy this. Enjoy my time with you. Like I said before… before Charlotte died, I want to move _forward_. But I can’t. My other side, no matter how hard I fight it, keeps crawling back. I don’t want to be dragged down by my idiotic problems anymore!”

Chloe crosses to crouch in front of Lucifer. Gently, she pulls his hands from his face. His resistance is minor, but present nonetheless. 

“They’re not idiotic,” she says. “They’re real, and a part of you. If they’re idiotic, than you’re idiotic, and I wouldn’t fall for an idiotic man, now would I?”

Fondness glimmers from Lucifer’s sad face. “No, I suppose not.”

“Please don’t feel as if you need to hide anything from me.” Lucifer grimaces, and a flare of fear erupts in Chloe. Is she going about this wrong? Her experience in troubled partners is not extensive. Daniel was so long ago, and Pierce at least acted like everything was perfect, although it clearly did not turn out that way. “What I mean is I am here for you. For whatever you need. But I don’t want to be a distraction,” she whispers. “I want to be your anchor. I want to be _more_.”

Shaking his head, Lucifer whispers back, “You’ve always been more to me. I’m sorry for acting otherwise.”

Chloe cups his cheek and smiles gently. “You’re easily forgiven,” she says. “For now, I think I know a way I can help.”

“You want to talk about the dreams more?” Lucifer asks, pulling away with slightly furrowed eyebrows. “They aren’t that pleasant, and I think now I am ready to go to the doctor—”

“That’s not what I meant, Lucifer,” Chloe says.

He stares, and Chloe fights the laughter in her that. Then understanding dawns on his face, and a smile erupts. “Oh!”

“Oh, indeed,” Chloe chuckles.

Lucifer requires no further prompting. He stands, as as he does, grabs her and kisses her with a welcome ferocity. His touch now is so different from before. He’d been imprudent, desperate. Now he’s deliberate, unafraid. His passion feels urgent, but not hasty.

But oh, does she get lost in it.

With every kiss, she tries to send him a message. A message of restoration, of peace, of tranquility. They are who they are; a war-torn detective and a maltreated consultant, but together, they can heal their scars. In return, Lucifer lets out breathless promises that leave her dazed: messages of fulfilled dreams, insinuations ofpotential fantasies satisfied. Chloe used to scoff at all the other women and men that would throw themselves at Lucifer, even after he’d deposited them to the side like single-use napkins. But now that she’s felt his touch, she can understand why they acted as they did. He’s addicting, _intoxicating_.

He’s a habit she wants to make routine.

Becoming daring, Chloe lets her tongue slip through her lips and tastes Lucifer’s soft mouth. He gasps, then quickly allows entrance, reciprocating tenfold. She succumbs to her desires and in the air, Lucifer catching her perfectly. His hands feel like fire on her skin, burning her upper back as he tries to bring her closer to him, close the gap that no longer exists between them. His hands find the hem of her shirt and flitter up her sides, lifting her blouse as they rise. Although she had tried to not think about it too much afterwards, Chloe admits to herself this is _so_ much better than her dream.

Lucifer turns in place and starts to head back to her bedroom as if she weighs nothing to him. “Yes?” He asks, unable to get more than the single word out.

“Please.”

He carries them through the doorway and Chloe waits for him to toss her on the bed. Instead, he surprises her and pushes her against the wall of the room, using the leverage to get somehow even closer. Chloe responds in kind, her hips pressing down into his, eliciting a soft groan from Lucifer that thrills her. He slams a hand by her head onto the mirror that she’d bolted to her wall, seeking support in a rare moment of weakness. For a brief moment Chloe thinks about how he’s going to leave a smudge on the glass. That thought floats away as quick as it arrived when Lucifer lowers his mouth to her neck, puckering it with kisses and small tugs of his teeth.

“Chloe,” he says to her neck, kissing it more. “Thank you, for everything.”

Chloe says you’re welcome by locking her ankles around Lucifer’s waist and thrusting him towards her. Lucifer gasps and retreats from her neck, and Chloe smirks in pride when she sees his flustered state. _She_ did that.

Capturing Lucifer in another kiss, she reaches to remove Lucifer’s coat, who quickly helps her out. After he shucks the suit to the floor, she begins to make work on undoing his button-down.

_Thud._

The sound registers in the back of her mind. She almost doesn’t react, until she hears another small scuffle, and small _ting,_ like metal clinging against something.

Pulling away from Lucifer, Chloe asks, “Did you hear that?”

“It was probably nothing,” Lucifer says hurriedly, bringing her mouth to his. Mind fuzzy, Chloe forgets the disturbance. She’s gotten five buttons now, reveling in his toned chest by sliding a hand through the shirt.

“Decker?” A voice calls from the foyer.

“Bloody hell,” Lucifer gasps, breaking away from Chloe. Closing his eyes, he rests his head against Chloe’s forehead. “Bothersome demon.”

Chloe laughs, and after a small tug, Lucifer lets her jump down from his arms. “I should talk to her. I haven’t seen her since my horrid bachelorette party.”

Lucifer’s jaw clenches. If it’s from the mention of the party, or the fact they’d just been interrupted, Chloe isn’t sure, but either way, what’s done is done. Might as well deal with the situation. Letting out a huge exhale, Lucifer throws a hand into the air, all sense of irritation gone. “Yes, yes, I understand. You go out first… I need a few moments.”

Making a point to not look down, Chloe nods. Thankfully, before Lucifer can see her turn red, which is _so_ childish, considering what they’d just been doing, he bends down to retrieve his discarded jacket. After a quick check in the mirror —her hair is slightly dissolved, of course, but after throwing it in a quick ponytail it looks fine— Chloe leaves Lucifer to collect himself.

“Maze?” Chloe calls as she steps from the room. Maze stands a few feet from the front door. Her face is swollen with healing bruises, and her lip cracks with fresh blood when the women gives Chloe a timid smile. “My god, what happened to you?”

Maze waves a hand in the air without a care. “Doesn’t matter.” She slides to the booth and takes a defeated seat. “I wanted to talk with you, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Chloe moves to stand on the opposite side of the bar and rests on her elbows.

After a deep breath, Maze shoots her with a fierce look, determination sparking in her eyes. “I know I messed up these past few weeks. The way I behaved was… wrong. I was going through some stuff, and I acted out. I made your bachelorette party awful, and then wasn’t here when you needed me. I was an awful roommate, and a bad friend. I’m sorry.”

Wow. Chloe never really expected this from Maze.

“Do you think Trixie will ever want to talk to me again?”

Chloe smiles. “I do. She might take a little while to warm up again, but she isn’t the type to hold onto grudges too long. You know that.” Maze smiles back at Chloe. “She’s out with Dan right now. He wants to spend more time with her now that…” Chloe can’t finish the sentence. “He took her to the movies, but should be back in a few hours.”

Maze nods, stoic, but Chloe can see the happiness radiating from the woman.

“Mazikeen!” Lucifer says, astonished. The pair of women turn to see Lucifer finally striding over from the bedroom. He looks as if nothing happened — his hair is perfect, his suit without a wrinkle. But Maze shoots Chloe a quick raise of an eyebrow, and Chloe knows she figured it out regardless. Lucifer joins Chloe on her side of the bar, and gestures to Maze. “How did you come to look like that?”

Rolling her eyes, the bountyhunter says, “If you must know, I got into a pretty bad fight with Pierce’s henchmen, but Linda patched me up.”

“Seems like Linda is becoming a second type of doctor nowadays,” Chloe murmurs to herself. Of course, Maze with her bat-like hearing, shoots her a questioning look which Chloe decides to ignore. “Pierce’s henchmen, you say?”

“Yeah,” Maze says, now kicking back in her barstool. “Twelve of them. They were pretty well trained, but not well enough.”

“Clearly.” Chloe crosses her arms. “So, you beat up Pierce’s men and went straight to Linda’s?”

Maze raises her eyebrows. “That’s right. Although I don’t really want to talk about it, he threatened her. So I had to make sure she was okay.”

“And you came here straight after she patched you up?”

Maze narrows her eyes. “If you call waiting a day for my body to heal ‘straight after’, sure. What are you getting at, Decker?”

Chloe turns to Lucifer and nods. He stares at her as if this is not necessary. “Show her, Lucifer.”

Rolling his eyes, Lucifer reaches into his coat and pulls out the knife. Maze’s eyes narrow, then widen with realization.

“That bastard!”

“You recognize the weapon, then?”

Maze laughs at Chloe. “Don’t play dumb, Decker. It’s not a good look on either of us. You know it’s mine. I accidentally left it behind after Cai— _Pierce_ kidnapped me and I escaped after knocking out all of his pathetic henchmen. I should have known he would find it.”

“I didn’t just find it,” Chloe says. “It _killed him_. I found it sticking out of his body, but removed it before anyone else arrived. To protect you.” Chloe leans in on her elbows. “But I have to know, Maze. And please be honest. You had motive, this is your blade, and your only alibi is your best friend which doesn’t look great. Did _you_ kill him?”

“ _Me_?” Maze throws her head back and lets out a roaring laugh. “Oh, I wish I did, that asshole! If I had, I would be screaming from the rooftops in glee.” She crosses her arms and smiles. “But no, it wasn’t me. Honestly, I was too beaten up to go anywhere else after that. Pierce had drugged me pretty badly, and I was still feeling some of its affects.”

“Hmm.” Chloe closes her eyes, thinking. “I believe you, but that means Pierce had this weapon on him, he used it against someone, and got overpowered.” She taps her chin. “It just seems odd to me that he would take a knife out at all, when he’d shot me earlier that evening.”

“That is weird,” Maze admits. In a blur she picks up the knife and swings it around her fingers as if she twirls a pencil to help with her thought process. “My knives are special, though, so maybe he was using them for something normal guns wouldn’t work on.”

“What in the world would that be?” Chloe asks her.

“I—” Maze stops short, eyes skirting from Chloe’s, to Lucifer’s, and back again. Chloe thinks she sees her eyes widen a tad, but then Maze shrugs. “No clue, Decker. Doesn’t really make any sense. But then again, Pierce was a power-hungry gang lord. Crooks like that typically are twisted in the head. Maybe he was just crazy.”

“Maybe,” Chloe repeats, still unsure. The picture is not adding up properly. There must be some piece of the puzzle she is still missing.

Lucifer brings her out of her ptrplextion with a soft tap on the shoulder. “It’s getting late,” he says. “I’m sure Daniel will be returning to drop off your spawn from their movie night soon. I should get going.”

Chloe can see the excuse for what it is, but the exhaustion of the day hits her and she nods. She needs to think, and talk to Maze more.

She covers his hand on her shoulder and smiles up at him. “Okay. See you tomorrow, Lucifer.” She drops her voice. "And when you're ready to talk some more, you know I'm here for you."

He smiles back. “See you tomorrow, detective.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of story progression, but we’ll be back to the crime next time! Hopefully Chloe isn’t too OOC (I am slightly worried about that) but I thought with everything that just happened, she might need some release, if you get my drift. I also figured we could use some fluff, considering the amount of angst this fic is going to bring in the future. Besides, some tension was resolved here.
> 
> Thank you all who comment/leave kudos. It really means a lot!


	5. Cruel Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe works on the case with Lucifer and Logan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title by Valerie Broussard (found this song from the Lucifer soundtrack, actually!)

In a rare show of shame, last night Mazikeen ended up retiring to her room before Dan returned home with Trixie asleep in his arms. Probably for the best, Chloe thinks, as it may have been too overwhelming for her daughter to come back late at night and have her scary friend attempting an apology. She’d told the truth when explaining to Maze that Trixie did not hold grudges, but the woman had hurt the child pretty badly. Then this morning when Trixie woke for their breakfast routine, Maze had already disappeared, probably getting an early start on some high bounty. Chloe mentioned Maze’s intentions to Trixie who barely acknowledged her mother was speaking to her. With a shake of her head, Chloe resumed making scrambled eggs. 

Now whistling a nineties tune, Chloe parks her car in the police station’s reserved spaces for detectives, much closer to the building’s stairs than other lower officer spots. Thank goodness, because after Trixie realized her lunchbox was still at home, Chloe had to do a one-eighty and retrieve the food before finally dropping Trixie off at her school. It cost her thirty extra minutes of driving, but hopefully the new captain will be understanding.

After grabbing her shoulder bag from the back of the car, Chloe slams the door shut with the bottom of her foot and strides with speed to the stairs that ascend to the police station. In her bustle, she feels her grip on her keys loosen, loosen, and no, nononono — they fall to the ground. Grumbling, Chloe stoops to pick them up, and of course due to the weird angle of her body, papers slide of her bag which she’d forgotten to fasten completely. Her mood now at red levels, Chloe shoots a few expletives out as she stuffs her work into her pack, crumpling the formerly nicely organized stacks. She hefts the whole affair into her hands and continues on her way. Unwilling to take the stairs with her arms full of wild papers, Chloe turns to the other corner of the parking lot where the elevator is tucked.

“Detective Decker! Detective Decker!”

The shouts startle her. She turns to see a horde of reporters approach her, microphones extended and video cameras rolling. Chloe notes that one of the insignias is of a major news network, the other two belonging to smaller-named stations. A woman holding a microphone jogs in way too graceful of a fashion for the height of the heels she wears and shoves the microphone in front of Chloe’s face, motioning to her cameramen with a twirl of her forefinger.

“Detective Decker, we heard there’s a murder case that happened in Vermont Knolls just a day ago. No DNA so far, no leads, only cause of death. Any thoughts you would like to share on the matter?”

Chloe stares, mouth open at the woman. Her lack of response gives two more reporters time to make their way over and thrust their respective microphones at Chloe. After a few blinks and a shake of her head, she asks, “How in the world have you heard about this?”

A man retreats his microphone to speak into it himself. “There are also rumors that this could be gang-related. How safe is Los Angeles, really? Is the police hiding anything from us?”

“I—” Chloe finds herself lacking in anything to say. All her training and prep regarding media pops out of her brain, leaving her a confused and flustered mess. Besides, with less than a day’s work on the case, she can hardly be expected to make any official statements.

She tries to say just that when the final reporter beings to ask a question.

“This seems to be growing into a particularly tough case. Is your team equipped to handle such a demanding task? Shouldn’t someone other than a nightclub owner be partnering with you?”

Personal attacks cross the line. “No comment!” Chloe shouts, assertive. She begins to wave away the microphones with a hand, but her bag slouches in her hold and Chloe is forced to hug the bag closer to her body. “I have work to do!” Using her shoulder, she powers her way through the incessant cesspool of correspondents and makes it to the elevator. She jabs an elbow to the button, tapping her foot when the elevator takes more than a few seconds to open for her, pointedly ignoring the endless barrage of questions at her back. Once finally in the lift, she uses her elbow once more to select her floor. As the doors close, Chloe turns and offers a sweet smile and a tilt of her head. Reporters try to squeeze in with her, only succeeding in poking their arms in.

“Sorry, authorized personnel only!”

Shouts of displeasure come through from the other side, but are quenched when the iron doors shut. Chloe sighs, slouching on the back wall, the hair from her braid falling in front of her face. What a way to start a morning.

The first inquiry she’d rebutted with comes up in her mind. How _did_ they already get the scent on this case? The reporters had not been incorrect. Chloe knows a difficult case when she saw one. But the LAPD deals with cases like this, and much worse, all the freaking time. The city is dense, extensive, and downright nefarious. Why is the news deciding this particular case is of interest?

And how, of course, did Lucifer find himself front and center of all the attention?

It takes an eternity for the elevator to reach the precinct’s floor. When the doors open again, Chloe storms from the slow elevator towards her desk, cheeks still red from embitterment and her camel trench coat bellowing out behind her. Before she even makes it halfway to her station, another commotion grabs her attention in the corner of her eye. A pair of bodies argue, one much more gesticulative than the other.

Upon closer inspection, Chloe recognizes Maze angrily whispering-shouting to Lucifer. The tall man pays more attention to the vending machine in front of him, rubbing his chin as he gazes at the assortment of goodies beyond the glass. He makes a face when the machine spits his dollar bill back out.

Afraid to make a sound, Chloe strains her ears.

“Lucifer, look at me when I’m talking to you!” Maze orders him. Lucifer snags his dollar bill back and shoves it into his pants pocket. Maze glowers. “I know what you did. How long are you going to hide it?”

With a glance to and for, Lucifer reaches for the vending machine’s padlock. With a small yank, the mechanism comes clean off. He scrunches his hand without effort and drops the bent metal lock to the floor. Chloe’s eyes widen. Had he just?…

“Lucifer?” Maze demands as he opens the machine.

“I’ll figure it out.” His hand hovers over the food, finally selecting a bag of Famous Amos from the rack second to the top.

“She’s smart! She’ll catch on eventually. Then what will you do?”

Lucifer turns to Maze, closing the vending machine behind him. “I said, I’m working on it!”

Curing her lip in disgust, Maze throws a jerky, mocking bow at Lucifer. “Of course, my _lord_. Just don’t come crawling back to me when it blows up in your face.”

“Yes.” Eyes slitted, Lucifer’s voice comes out flat, lifeless. “That would have been my first instinct, considering everything you’ve tried to do for me, lately.”

Maze stands up from her bow, a mix of anger and guilt in her eyes.

“Lucifer, I…” she trails off with a sniff. Her head whips to Chloe, eyes wild.

Lucifer follows, his countenance taking a complete turnaround when he sees her. “Detective!” He calls, leaving Maze by the machine.

After her parking lot ordeal, Chloe cannot bring herself to smile back. Dumping her bag onto her desk, she waits for the duo.

“Why are you here early, Lucifer?”

He frowns. “I got a call from the precinct and figured you had authorized it. But low and behold,” he gestures to the desk next to Chloe’s where Officer Hansen busies himself with a few papers, “turns out our rookie is the one that called me. I brought you some coffee when I arrived. Although I’m sure it’s dead cold now.” He gives her a funny look. “You look positively disheveled. Is everything all right, Detective?”

“Yes,” Chloe says, blowing a lock of hair from her face. “And what are you doing here, Maze? You left so early this morning, I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”

“Caught a bounty, so I brought him in. As per usual. Then I saw Lucifer. Figured it’s been a while, thought we should catch up.”

With a soft crinkle, Lucifer opens his cookie snack. Bringing it up to his face, he closes one eye and inspects the contents. “Yes, _catch up._ By the way, where is this bounty now?”

Maze glares up at him. “ _Away_. Which is where I will be going. See you later, Decker.”

As the woman takes her leave, Chloe topples into her chair. The coffee Lucifer mentioned sits by her Newton’s Cradle. She takes a sip and grimaces.

“Ah, as I figured. Allow me to heat that up for you.” Lucifer swipes the cup from her hold and heads to the microwave. While he’s away, Chloe empties her bag and arranges her desk back into its typical orderly fashion. With a puff of air, Chloe slams her hands on her office desk. Things had _seemed_ to be getting slowly back to normal — or as normal as her life has ever been since Lucifer became a part of the extremely complicated differential equation that _is_ her life. But with the ambush most likely being an sign of more journalists to come, and overhearing what was most certainly an intense and private conversation, Chloe is not sure she’ll be getting any respite soon.

Of course, she thinks with a smile, things might be a little smoother when dealing with the erratic nightclub owner now. After last night, any question in her mind on whether Lucifer was fully in on being in a relationship with her evaporated. She’d seen how he’d fought with something within himself that tried to hide his frustrations, his insecurities. But he’d beaten them back and confided in her, he’d _admitted_ unpleasant emotions and accepted responsibility.

He certainly was not he same man she’d met all those years ago.

“Here you go!” His voice pulls her head up. Proving her point, Lucifer, slides the now warm cup of coffee into her hands. Chloe spreads her palms around the cup, appreciating the gentle warmth it brings her in the chilly precinct. “There’s that smile I wanted to see.” He beams down at Chloe, keeping the smile on his face even when he shoves an entire cookie into his mouth.

Her smile sneaks onto one side of her face. “You’re awfully chipper for having come in this morning unnecessarily early. Are your nightmares gone?”

Lucifer flinches backwards, but it turns out he just is reaching for a discarded chair to sit in. “No, not in the slightest. But I have an appointment with the doctor later today, so hopefully it will all get sorted out soon. They’re of no consequence.”

Chloe would hardly consider nightmares capable of shaking this sturdy man in front of to her core _inconsequential_ , but Chloe knows Lucifer is dealing with it, in a much more healthy way than ignoring the issue. She supposes she should let him be an adult about it, even if it is slightly strangle to see Lucifer handle anything like a grown-up.

She nods. “That’s great.” She glances at Hansen’s area, who with a start returns his wandering eyes to the papers on his desk. “What did Hansen call you in for then?”

Lucifer pops another cookie. “Heasme bot Atn,” he says over a mouthful.

“Excuse me?”

Lucifer takes a deep swallow and a swig from his hidden flask. “He asked me about Aten’s symbol,” he repeats. “Going over the finer details of Egyptology and such. He was curious about my opinion on Egyptian gods, and I think our conversation took a more theological turn at some point.”

Chloe raised her eyebrows.

“He wanted to know my opinions about right and wrong, if being a police officer actually meant anything.” Lucifer smiles. “It reminded me of a certain conversation we had a while ago in your car.”

“I remember,” Chloe smiles.

“Then he brought up how some people might be thinking they do good, but are actually causing harm. He started inquiring about Hell, and since I consider myself quite the expert on the subject, I of course indulged him. Our Chad was quite interested in my past.”

“Was he, now?” Chloe narrows her eyes at her rookie. 

“Indeed. Ella also joined in and took quite a serious stance on the insignificance of our actions, which surprised me. I’m a smidge worried about our girl.” Lucifer plays with his lower lip. “She’s quite torn up about Charlotte, which I understand, I miss the woman as well. But my assurance she’s up in heaven did not have the affect I anticipated.”

“You think she’s in heaven? Why”

Lucifer winks. “Just a inkling.”

Making a mental note to have a chat with the young scientist, Chloe pinches her nose with her forefinger and thumb. “Okay. Did Hansen actually tell you any information about the case? Or did he dawdle the whole time last night?”

“Actually,” Lucifer waves at Hansen grabbing his attention immediatly. “He said he found something, but wanted you to be here when he went over it. So we do so as a _team_.”

Ignoring Lucifer’s distaste over the word, Chloe leans crosses her arms while relaxing further into the chair to arrange herself in a comfortable position as Hansen scoots over. Judging by the bright look in his eyes, maybe he found something of interest.

“Good morning, Detective Decker!”

“Officer Hansen,” Chloe says. “I hear you have something for us?”

“Mm-hmm.” Scooching closer, Hansen opens a case file on Chloe’s desk. “After you dropped me off yesterday, I went through the details of the scene over and over, tryin’ to think if we missed anything. Any hint, implication, or suggestion for a lead. Of course, I couldn’t think of anything else. No surprise, if you couldn’t, especially without any evidence or DNA pointing in a particular direction.” He flips through the few papers until he lands on the coroner’s report. “But fortunately, I stayed so late pullin’ my hair out that the coroner finished his autopsy. Most of it detailed things we already knew — healthy male poisoned via atropine, the toxin found in deadly nightshade. Nothn’ else abnormal, no signs of any other trauma. But,” he points to a scribble on the report, “the coroner _did_ find a a tattoo on the man’s left inner forearm, which we hadn’t seen because his clothes covered it up.” He yanks a photograph paper clipped to the side. “Here.”

Chloe examines the symbol. A ragged, black circle marks the man’s forearm, just as Hansen described. It looks intentionally sloppy, as if the artist had been told to make his hands shaky.

“This is good,” Chloe says. “Much more than we had before. If we can somehow find the tattoo artist, maybe they give us information of their client. We might actually be able to get a name on our John Doe.” She smiles at Logan. “Great work, really.”

Logan practically bursts out of his seat, his smile is so large. “I’m just happy my all-nighter proved to be useful!”

Chloe places the photo down. “All nighter?” Lucifer picks up the image, bringing it close to his face, eyes narrowed. “Are you okay to work today? It’s not safe to be fatigued. Maybe you should go home and catch some rest.”

Logan laughs. “It’s just an expression, Detective. I got enough sleep! I’m fine, I swear. I would much rather stay here with you and Mr. Morningstar, workin’ on the case.”

Chloe shoots a look at Lucifer to gauge his reaction, but the man frowns at the picture in his hands. “If you insist. I’m trusting you on this,” she tells Hansen. The young officer nods. “We need to request an analysis of the tattoo. Logan, can you check if there is a way to extract any ink from the corpse? Maybe it’s special, or has some property unique to only certain tattoo parlors. When you get, we’ll go over some theories together and see if we can get outside of this building today.”

With another nod, Hansen darts away to pay a visit to the morgue downstairs. Chloe swivels in her chair to face Lucifer who rests daintily on the edge of her desk. He still stares at the photo of the arm, until his eyes widen. Then they fill with rage.

“Lucifer? Did you recognize something?”

“I…” He flips the photograph around so it faces Chloe. “Is this familiar to you at all?”

Arching an eyebrow, Chloe makes a show of staring at the tattoo again. All she sees is the same circle shape, jagged in the skin. “I guess…it could be the moon?”

“The moon?” Lucifer repeats and flips the photo back around. He closes his eyes. “Of course. When he became…” he trails off and places the picture down. “Maybe it is the moon. That can be one of the theories we discuss when Chad returns.” With a sigh, he grabs his snack bag and takes a chomp out of a cookie. “Although the lad bothers me, I have to agree with you, this was a good find. One that can be attributed more to the coroner than him, but good nonetheless.”

Chloe chuckles and crosses her arms. “I can’t believe you just admitted that. You’ve been very surly towards my rookie. Want to explain your self?”

Lucifer decides the chocolate on his finger is much more interesting than Chloe at that exact moment.

“Lucifer.” Chloe touches his knee.

The man rolls his eyes, cheeks turning slightly red under his beard. “I don’t really care to share why.”

Now she’s interested. Her hand creeps up his leg, and Lucifer straightens in his seat.

“Please?” Chloe asks. She drops her voice. “For _me_?”

Jaw clenching, Lucifer covers Chloe’s hand with one of his large ones and slides it back down his quad.

“This is precisely why,” he admits. “I was hoping to get you alone. To go on cases _together_ like before, but with more… adventure.”

“Oh.” Chloe’s momentarily stunned by his pure vulnerability, the raw emotion in his voice exposing how deeply he feels about this. She understands, of course. After all they’d been through, some downtime and fun sounds perfectly scrumptious. Alas, life always has other plans.

Looking to the side, Lucifer says, “Also, he somehow resisted my powers. You saw that in the car, I know you did.”He snarls. “I don’t like that. I can’t quite explain it, but it rubbed me the wrong way. The only time that’s happened was with you, or people who have extraordinary strong wills.”

Chloe tilts her head. “Maybe you’re just not giving Hansen enough credit.”

Shaking his head in return, Lucifer says, “No, no. He’s bright, do not get me wrong. But the entire exchange felt off. I won’t say I distrust the lad… but I cannot say I trust him as well.”

Right then, Chloe sees Logan return from the depths of the morgue. He watches the way he holds himself; not too self-confident, but not timid as well. He walks with the assurance of a cadet that held top marks in his class, but has not been tested in the field enough to back it up. Nothing stands out as dishonest, but after all this time, Chloe knows Lucifer’s gut, while impulsive, rarely turns out to be wrong.

Logan walks up to Chloe’s desk while shaking his head. “Turns out the tattoo route might not be the best. The coroner said it’s possible to remove the ink from the body, but it will take a while to extract an’ isolate enough to actually run any tests. He agreed to still try, but advised us to think of other directions.”

Chloe sighs. “Guess we might have to just go about this the old fashioned way.” Leaning back in her chair, she scratches her head. “We need to think of other leads or possible clues. What do we have?”

Lucifer opens his mouth, but Logan beats him to the answer. “A man placed in his late twenties, probably twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Found in dress clothes that are completely unmarked. No signs of struggle, jus’ the trace of poison in his blood. His body had a completely healed mark that looks similar to Aten’s, an’ no DNA was found at the scene. On his arm, he had a circle tattoo.”

“No links with any other MOs either,” Chloe grumbles. “I suppose we could circle back to the scene of the crime. Walk around, ask around and see if there were witnesses that fled. The area is known for organized crime, and I’m sure the reputation for what happens to snitches is active. Regardless if it’s connected to gang violence, anyone in the vicinity with common sense would have tried to leave as quickly and as quietly as possible.”

“That sounds tiring and tedious,” Lucifer grumbles. “There must be another angle.”

Chloe agrees, but so far cannot see what degree that angle is at. She thinks harder. Tattoo… already in the works. Chest symbol… odd, and she’s not sure how to take that yet. Clothes…

“Maybe there’s a clue in the clothes!” Chloe starts. “The clothes he wore were very odd for the area.” She gestures to Hansen. “Did the coroner’s report say anything about the clothes?”

“Yeah…” he flips through the file, finally pointing at something. “Here! He said that he found the brand to be Dior.”

“Dior?” Lucifer repeats, eyebrows high.

Hansen nods, still reading. “And according to the coroner who tried to look up the clothing, he priced the items at…” he whistles. “Wow. Over five thousand total for everything.”

“Five _thousand?_ ” Chloe says, astounded. “For those boring clothes?”

“Boring?” Lucifer says. “To the untrained eye, maybe. They were chic and perfectly tailored for his body. In their simplicity, they highlight every asset and exude success. Clothes like that do not come cheap, Detective.” He tuts. “This also explains my disdain for his shoes, I’ve never been a fan of the brand. They appear as if they are trying too hard.Assuming he also had Dior shoes.” Hansen nods in the affirmative.

Chloe shakes her head. “Wearing something like that in that area of the city is just like _begging_ for a mugging.”

“Except he _wasn’t_ mugged,” Lucifer interjects. “He was poisoned. And going on with your hunch before, he _knew_ he was poisoned. If you’re trying to make a statement, why not do it dressed nicely? If I were to expire, I’d want to be found in my best clothes as well.”

Chloe frowns. Lucifer does bring up a good point, and he’s helping to confirm her suicide theory. “That’s true, but the location still is odd. I think that’s what is throwing me off. Why Vermont Knolls? Why not his home? Or somewhere more suited to a showcase of death? He was just in a random alleyway were anything could have happened, were anyone could have walked by.”

“Excuse me,” Logan says. “Mr. Morningstar mentioned a hunch? What did he mean?”

Chloe stops herself from sending Lucifer a look of panic. She’d wanted to keep her idea quiet for the most part to avoid any unnecessary attention, but Hansen does not deserve to be kept entirely out of the loop.

“I just think this murder wasn’t supposed to be kept quiet. It wanted attention.”

“Ah,” Hansen says. “That’s a good thought! Especially since this dude was clearly involved in some sketchy activity, what with his scar an’ all.”

Chloe nods again, now writing their train of thought down. “Yes, that too. There are so many dots, I can _feel_ the connections. We just need to bring them all together. Attention, scar, tattoo, location. It’s all here.” She sighs when her small notebook fills up. “Hansen, get me an investigation board. And some yarn.”

* * *

The trio spend the next several hours putting together the cork-board with the pieces of the puzzle they have so far. The body sits in the dead center, chest exposed has a magnified photograph of the sun symbol with descriptions written in red marker. An arrow points to his arm with the a copy of the coroner’s picture of the tattoo at the end, space left blank for when any leads turn up for the ink. A briefing about the dead mans clothes is written below the body, with DIOR capitalized dramatically. In a corner of the board, notes about the location of death are hastily scribbled by Chloe.

The yarn sits pathetically on Chloe’s desk, waiting for any connection to be made. Hansen taps as a marker on his chin.

“We know the area is more desolate and poor than almost all other areas of Los Angeles.”

Chloe nods. “It’s riddled with problems, from housing, to being a food desert, to gang issues.”

Hansen looks warily at Chloe. “I know you wanted to avoid this direction, but maybe we should consider gang violence? I mean, having some rich fella get killed by a gang isn’t really news, but it could become news in certain circumstances.”

Sighing, Chloe relents. “I really shouldn’t eliminate any possibilities at this point, so let’s consider it. What are you thinking, Officer Hansen?”

The boy shrugs. “Really just anything gang-related. Murder of a random rich man walking around the neighborhood? Don’t really follow your attention idea much. Botched job, wanted to make a point? More likely. Or maybe there was a territory violation. I know the clothes are throwin’ us off, but some gangs _do_ have the money for expensive like that!”

Lucifer entwines his hands together in front of his face, forefingers upright pressing into his upper lip. “If we are on the subject of gangs, may I offer a suggestion?”

“Of course,” Chloe says.

Lucifer stares at the photo of the tattoo on the board. “Perhaps we can bypass the ink route entirely. If the police have a database on gang or mob marks, we should cross reference this one to see if anything comes up.”

Chloe frowns. “This doesn’t look like the best tattoo job, I’m not sure.”

Lucifer sits up, gripping the armrests so they squeak slightly in protest. “I truly think it would be a good idea.” He nods, as if he’s already decided this this the best path towards cracking this case.

“Okay,” Chloe relents. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Any idea is welcome as this point, anyways. She glances at her watch just as the minute hand ticks to the seven, almost completely on the opposite side to the hour hand. “Oh my god! It’s already well past one! We should take a break.” She motions at Logan. “Hansen, go get lunch!”

“But what ‘bout Mr. Morningstar’s idea?”

“Yes,” Lucifer says cooly. “What about my idea?”

Nodding, Chloe still flicks her hand away at Hansen. “Get to that after you’ve eaten something.”

Lucifer scowls in his seat, but takes Chloe’s instruction without verbal complaint. Hansen nods in return, cleaning up the corner of Chloe’s desk he’d claimed when they worked on the caseboard.

Just as he turns to leave, a thought strikes Chloe. She grabs his arm.

“Wait, Hansen.”

“Yes, Detective Decker?”

Chloe taps a finger on her chin. “Did either one of you guys have any issues with reporters this morning?” She looks at both Lucifer and Logan.

“Reporters?” Hansen exchanges a puzzled look with Lucifer. “No, not at all. Why do you ask?”

“I had a… run-in with some this morning. You guys haven’t mentioned anything at all to the local news, or accidentally leaked any information, right?”

“Of course not, Detective!” Logan says, eyes wide. The simple thought he could have betrayed his superior’s trust obviously terrifies him. His face pales, exuding a plea for forgiveness of a crime not even committed. Maybe Chloe should reconsider Lucifer’s mistrust of the boy.

“You know I wouldn’t,” Lucifer says, picking at something on his nail.

Chloe nods, believing both of the men. “Okay. So bizarre. Well, go off to lunch, Hansen, but please stop by the captain’s office as well to mention the media. And don’t forget to order that search for the tattoo. I’ll see you in an hour.”

With the definitive dismissal, Hansen offers a salute and heads out.

Chloe sighs and leans back into her chair, brushing a loose strand from her face. Suddenly her body hurts from sitting so long and her mind hurts from hunting for direction.

A touch on her shoulder startles her, but it’s just Lucifer, gazing at her with warmth in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Detective. I’m sure that the LAPD will find something in the database concerning the John Doe’s tattoo.”

Chloe smiles, accepting his offer of comfort. “What makes you so certain about this tattoo-thing?” She means it as a chaff and a way to express her appreciation for Lucifer’s devotion to this hard case. But Lucifer pulls away.

“Call it a hunch of my own,” he replies, eyes distant as he fixes his sleeve.

A brush of cold air flows up Chloe’s spine and she shivers, hugging her body. “Okay. You know I trust you, right?”

Lucifer glances up, and the warmth returns to his eyes. “Of course. As I do you.”

They sit there, smiling at each other through their eyes. Seconds pass, long and concupiscent, and a rush of red creeps up Chloe’s neck. Lucifer’s eyes turn darker and darker, and far too distracting in the workplace.

With a cough, Chloe looks away. “So, do you want to get some lunch as well?”

Lucifer’s voice comes out rough. “Yes,” he rasps. “That sounds positively delectable. In fact, there is anew restaurant—”

“Chloe! Chloe!”

Dan runs across the precinct floor, jacket opening from his speed. He waves a manila folder in the air.

“Dan?” She rises from her seat. “Is something the matter? Is it Trixie?”

“Douche,” Lucifer greets her ex, standing up as well.

Dan stops a good yard from the two of them, angrily eyeing Lucifer before addressing Chloe. “Chloe. I know you’re busy with a case right now, but I could really use your eyes for a minute or so.”

Chloe nods. “Of course.” She shoves some of her papers to the side to make room for Dan’s case file. While she doesn’t fully agree his choice of returning to work immediately after Charlotte’s death, she knows she needs to do all she can to support him through this difficult time. She figures Dan thinks throwing himself into work, trying to save others, is a way to distract himself while also doing what Charlotte would have wanted. Protecting the innocent.

Lucifer hovers over Chloe’s shoulder as she flips open the folder. Dan shoves him away. “I didn’t ask for _your_ help, asshole.”

Chloe can feel Lucifer bristle. If he were a dog, she’s sure his haunches would be rising. Before he can say anything, she places a hand on his torso. _God_ , she thinks. He feels like a tilted pillar, barely supported and ready to fall and cause chaos. She can barely hold him back.

“Now is _not_ the time for that, Dan. You asked for my help, and Lucifer is my partner. He’ll help too.”

“Why would I want the help of a murderer?” Dan spits, squaring his stance.

Under her touch, Chloe feels Lucifer recoil.

“Daniel!” She says, raising her voice. “Control yourself! You know as well as I do Lucifer didn’t kill Charlotte.”

“He might as well have.”

That is the final blow. The leaning toward boulders past Chloe, suddenly completely unrestrainable. Chloe’s arm collapses into her body in a burt of pain as Lucifer pushes Dan back with a small thrust in the chest. Dan flounders back as if he’s just been struck by a bullet, arms flailing for a hold to keep himself upright. Finding none, he finally tumbles on to the ground. He holds his upper body upright and glares at Lucifer, who approaches to loom over the man.

“You are not the only one with a claim to a connection with Charlotte, _Daniel,_ ” Lucifer hisses Dan’s name like a curse. “Believe what you might, but I mourne this loss of human life as well. At least Pierce got what he finally deserved. I honestly hope you find peace in that, detective.”

Lucifer marches away towards the precinct’s main stairs. The entire office is silent, every single worker in the room having paused their task to watch the altercation. Halfway up the first flight, Lucifer turns to where dan still lies on the floor.

“I wish I could have done something to prevent her death. I truly do.”

With that, he exits.

Breathing heavily, Dan shouts out in fury and he thrusts himself off the ground. His fists clench at his sides, debating whether to run after the man that embodies everything he despises.

Thinking better of it, Dan turns to Chloe. She gazes up at where Lucifer’s figure last departed, and unconsciously takes a step towards the stairs.

Dan holds her back. “Leave him.”

“Leave him?” Chloe asks, pulling her arm from his hold. Noticing everyone still watches them, she shouts, “get back to work!” As people scuttle way, she whisper-shouts at Dan. “How can you say that, after what you did? I’m sorry for your loss, Dan, I really am. But you can’t go picking a fight with Lucifer at every opportunity. You don’t know what he’s been through, you don’t know what he feels.”

“What he feels?” Dan laughs. “He hardly feels. The man is emotionally constipated, Chloe.”

“He’s not! At least not anymore!”

“Why are you defending him so much? You know he’s at least a _little_ to blame for Charlotte’s death. Not telling us about Piece is _insane._ You can admit that at least, right?”

Chloe shakes her head even as she agrees inside. She’d been trying not to think about it since… since the day Marcus died. After attempting to rationalize it, the only conclusion she could come up with was the simple fact that Lucifer hadn’t thought she’d listen to him.

_Would you have believed me?_

No, she wouldn’t have.

But she should have.

All of what happened — including her botched engagement, Maze getting beaten up, the death of a friend, was _her_ fault.

She shakes her head more rigorously. This path is a dangerous one.

“You didn’t come to argue with me. You asked for help. So, what do you need?”

Dan knows Chloe’s deflection tactics like he does the back of his own hand, but with a narrowing of his eyes, he shoves a finger at the open case file. “Take a look at this.”

Finally taking a close look at the contents, anger courses through Chloe as she reads the disgusting description which is backed up by equally disturbing images.

A photo of a middle-aged white male is paper clipped to the side of the folder, who is chronicled as an identified child kidnapper and trafficker. Chloe finds accounts of various claims, such as reports of missing children, discovered mangled bodies, evidence of struggle and money trails deeper in the folder. Pictures of the children, before and after kidnapping thicken the folder to a depth that makes Chloe’s stomach churn.

“I’m confused,” Chloe says, trying to ignore the bile that rises in her throat. “What do you need my help with? Seems obvious this man is guilty.”

“Yeah, but this man isn’t who we are trying to find or convict.” Dan flips a few pages over and finally points to an additional photo. “We found him earlier today, like this.”

Chloe gasps and brings the photo closer for inspection. The same man lays in a bed which Chloe assumes is his against the head frame, eyes devoid of any life. His hands have been tied perpendicular to his body against the wooden frame, his legs splayed straight in front of him tied in the same rope. His mouth stays open in a silenced scream, drawing Chloe’s eyes to the deep gash in his throat.

“What in the world?”

Dan nods. “Right? Gruesome. But I’m having trouble finding leads. All we found at the scene was this note.” He hands her a plastic evidence bag.

Chloe tightens the material to read the letters.

_A wrong has been corrected. We’ve strayed too far from the path of good. The world must know._

“This is it?” She asks.

Dan nods. “Yeah. Totally messed up. I mean, the dude had it coming, but taking when the public takes justice into their own hands, it just spells trouble.”

Chloe refrains from pointing out that is exactly what Charlotte had done. She looks at the photo again.

“What, was it this?” She points to a mark on the wood backboard. The focus of the camera is on the body, not the background, making it slightly fuzzy. But it stands out to Chloe. She narrows her eyes at the image, trying to figure out why she’s so drawn to it.

“I hadn’t noticed that. It’s probably just wear on the furniture. The wood looked pretty old.”

“No!” She shouts, recognizing it. No, this is definitely…” Chloe shuffles through her desk before remembering. “Oh!” She rushes to roll over her case board and points to her photo of Aten’s symbol. “This is definitely the same mark. Dan, I think our cases are connected.”

After a brief moment of examining the original photo and Chloe’s own, Dan tuts. “Damn. I knew you would find a break in my case, but I never imagined this.”

“This might be larger than I previously thought,” she says, pinning the new picture of the wooden carving next to the one of the symbol carved into the chest.

“Chloe!”

Chloe closes her eyes. _What now?_

She turns to find Ella walking with pace towards her desk, frantic.

“Ella,” Chloe says, surprised. “I was going to pay you a visit. I—”

“Chloe,” the scientist interrupts. “Sorry, but I’m not here for pleasantries.” The usually sweet woman’s seriousness worries Chloe.

“Yes?”

Ella slams a report on Chloe’s ever-cluttering desk. “The search you had your rookie request already processed and produced a result. Makes sense why it was so fast, once you see what that result was. Turns out, after cross-referencing the tattoo with known gang symbols was right on the money. We got a hit on the tattoo, and it might be too close to home. It matches…” Ella swallows. “It matches the tattoos of the Sinnerman’s henchmen. The ones that were captured when we found Pierce dead.”

Chloe sucks in a breath and rips the report from beneath Ella’s palm. She scans it quickly and finds the information confirmed right in front of her. Her image sits next to three more just like it, printed lines linking the various tattoos, marking them as perfect matches of the ones found on different body parts of the indisposed men that upon Chloe’s return to the loft were found scattered in every corner. The same men that she assumes shot Lucifer to bits.

Lucifer. He’d been one hundred percent right to suggest this approach.

Believing in him is already paying off.

Placing the report down, Chloe gives her two friends somber looks.

“Sounds like we have some people to question.”

And just like that, her cold case has two hot leads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget Maze, for the past few episodes, had been trying to send Lucifer back to Hell. He seemed quick to forgive her in the show, so I’m not having him outright be merciless to his head demon, but he’s certainly not going to be 100% trusting of her anymore.  
> As for Dan, I can see how he blamed Lucifer in his grief, but it rubbed me the wrong way when it was dragged out all season long. Lucifer was so clearly not responsible for Charlotte's death. So I'll be changing that story line a bit.  
> Also I have no idea how long autopsies typically take. I would guess maybe more than a day, but maybe since this is a hard case they would have tried to get it done more quickly. Just go with it.  
> Anyways, you all liked this chapter! Things are starting to come together. Sorry it took so long to update, but a few ideas came to me, so I had to re-think a few of the plot points in this story. Please comment and let me know what you guys think! I’m trying to go with longer chapters, but if people prefer more, shorter ones, I can do that as well.


	6. AUTHOR'S NOTE REGARDING CURRENT EVENTS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: this is NOT a chapter.

THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER.

This is what, I felt, was an essential note considering current events.

I live in the United States. If you have been following the news regarding the US, you will know that the largest civil rights movements is happening right now as ALL fifty states have staged protests and marches against police brutality and racism.

There is a deep problem in my country, rooted in centuries of racism, a history of slavery, and indentured servitude that lives on in the prison system that targets specific demographics. I am not here to go into the details of the many issues. I just want to bring awareness to the current problems at hand we are dealing with, and bring attention to the pain that people in my country are subjected to.

It may not directly connect to some, but considering the movement in my country is anti-police, continuing writing this fanfiction felt wrong to me, since Lucifer is a cop show. Yes, one with supernatural elements, but it’s a show about a detective. Look up “detective show,” and Lucifer pops up (I just did it).

ACAB is going around. “Well, not Chloe Decker!” some might say. Maybe she wouldn’t be. I’m not going to argue about a fictional character’s stance on this. Yes, fiction works and characters are important to understand our own world. They allow us to put a mirror up and look at ourselves, really look at ourselves, and allow us to question our reality. But in the end, they _are_ fictional, and whether or not Chloe and Co. fits in with ACAB doesn’t impact this reality.

I thought about integrating this issue into the fic. Maybe have the movement start, and Chloe quitting the force. But, in the end, I didn’t think I could do the issue justice. So, as the author of this story, I am going to have Chloe’s world not be affected by this issue and proceed with my original plan. As author, I am making an ideal world that I would like to see (even with the murders and stuff). Yes, there was a season 4 episode about racial profiling with Amenadiel, and honestly I loved that episode. I was proud that a show I loved so much was dealing with such a tough, but important, issue. So clearly police brutality does exist in this world, but not to the extent to where cops kneel on a mans neck for minutes resulting in… you get the idea.

Anyways, because of all of these thoughts, I haven’t worked on this for a while. However, after some thought, I am going to resume. Like I said, I am not going to go into details about the issues. Google is free. I suggest everyone educate themselves on this important revolution. #BLM.


	7. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Trevor Daniels’ song.

Chloe dismisses Dan, taking charge of his case by merging it with her own. She tries to convince him to go home, rest, and try to grieve properly, but he refuses with a shrug, mumbling for her to check on her _partner_.

Dan’s actions, while partially warranted, are definitely over the top, and greatly misguided. But she lets it go to do as he says, leaving both him and Ella to find Lucifer.

She climbs the stairs and exits the front entrance of the police station, but the man is nowhere to be seen. Lurching her neck, she still does not find a trace of him in the above ground parking lot. Just as she pulls out her phone, she hears a smash of stone and a small string of swear words around the corner.

Approaching slowly, Chloe peers around the corner. Lucifer leans prone against the brick wall, his head leaning on one strong forearm. His other arm reaches above his head, and where his hand rests against the wall is indented, small cracks emanating from his clenched fist.

After breaking her stare from the wall, Chloe noticed Lucifer’s body shake. His back shudders again and again. On the ground, Chloe sees small water marks.

_Holy shit._

“Lucifer.” She does not want to startle him. After the vending machine, and now the wall, she’s not sure she actually knows how strong Lucifer is. It seems inhuman. “What’s going on?” She’s hardly going to ask if he’s okay, when he’s so clearly not. “You know Dan… he isn’t himself right now. You shouldn’t listen to him.” 

Lucifer shakes his head against his forearm, sending more tears descending. “No, he’s just who he wants to be right now. He’s never spoken more honestly than he just did.”

Seeing Lucifer so shaken scares her. And from Dan of all people? He’s usually so stoic when dealing with his rival. Chloe grabs his right shoulder which is tight from crushing the brick wall. “Well, he’s still wrong. What he said was _wrong_. Come on, it’s just Dan, right? Since when do you care what he thinks?” 

Lucifer’s body tightens even more, and he turns to the left. “I could care less what Daniel _thinks_ of me. But… but what if he’s _right_? What if I am to blame?”

Bringing her other hand up, Chloe rubs his back. “You can’t think like that. Assigning every death to yourself. That’s a path to self-torture.”

She can feel Lucifer take a deep inhale. “I know you think like that. On every single case.”

Chloe sighs. “I do, but that gives me passion for my job, it gives me drive. Sure, it’s hard, but what you’re going through is different. This is _different._ She was your friend.”

Another convulsion takes Lucifer’s body, but no tears flow. “She was so much more than a friend,” he says, barely audible. “She was like a mother to me.”

This admission surprises Chloe into stopping massaging his back. He’s never mentioned this before.

The last time he’d even said the word _mother_ was when he thought she was responsible for the horned murders around a year ago. From Lucifer’s not-so-kind description of his father gifting him his backscars, to immediately assuming his mother is a murderer, Chloe worked out that Lucifer has quite an unhealthy relationship and view of parenthood, to put it lightly. If Charlotte had embodied a good version of motherhood… her loss must be hitting Lucifer much harder than she’d previously judged.

“Lucifer,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I know it hurts, but you need to understand you are _not_ responsible for everyone’s actions, or for how they lead their own lives.”

Lucifer shakes his head to the ground. “I used to think that, but now I’m not so sure.” Slowly, his hand slides down the wall until it breaks away. His arm falls limply to his side. “Remember the files Daniel found on Pierce from Charlotte’s home? She knew Pierce’s true identity. She was trying to catch him. And she knew, because _I_ told her.”

Chloe steps back. ““You… confided in Charlotte?” _And not me?_ She doesn’t say.

Lucifer looks away. “It just happened. And now, because I was trying to help, she is dead. It turns out I am evil, after all. Even when I try not to be.”

Hugging her stomach, Chloe says, “You know I don’t think that.” But she also thought he hadn’t told _anyone_ about the Sinnerman. Did he tell anyone else? Are there others he trusts more than her?

She seems him swallow hard at her statement. But he doesn’t disagree. Seeing a crack in his stubborn resolve, she grabs the limp hand and tugs him gently. Any strength he possessed to crush the wall has vanished from this weak hand, and Chloe has a hard time believing that he really made that indent. Maybe it was there before, and he just hit a vulnerable location.

“Besides, you’re making progress on this case,” she points out. “You’re helping me put other killers away. And _your_ idea, about the tattoo, was spot on! It matched the marking on many of Pierce’s henchmen, and I want to question them now. Will you come with me?”

When Lucifer does not make any indication he is going to move, she adds, “Besides,I think I spotted one more cookie that is begging to be eaten.”

Lucifer allows her to drag him from the wall. After brushing some stone from his palm, he shoves his hands to his pockets and strides in front of her to lead the way, leaving a cold path in his wake.

* * *

Chloe slaps the photo of her John Doe on the metal table.

“Do you know who this is?”

In the dim interrogation room, the man squints to get a closer look, even though the action appears to cause him pain. He is still thoroughly beaten up from having inadequate time to recover from whatever altercation took place before Chloe arrived to find Pierce — the _Sinnerman_ — dead on the floor.

But time is a luxury Chloe cannot afford. A serial killer with a vigilante streak is on the rise, and her only tangible link sits in front of her, the most conscious member of the Sinnerman’s gang they had apprehended.

“Gregory? Gregory Gulliver?”

Chloe stands up straight, crossing her arms. She shoots a look at Lucifer at her side, but he stares blankly at the table, not even looking at the photograph.

“So you _do_ know him?”

“Yeah. Gulliver was fucking annoying,” the henchman snorts. “Dude really bothered the shit out of me most of the time.”

“How so?” Chloe eggs him on, certain of a revelation on the horizon.

Circling a hand in the air, the man attempts an eye roll, which seems difficult given his swollen eye. “Always kept going on about the greater good, that ends justify the means. I don’t give a crap about that kind of stuff. I was just there to do the job, and get money. A lot of us were glad when he decided to dip.”

“Do you know where he went?”

The man shrugs, or at least as much as he can in his shackles. “Some new organization. I don’t got a name, if that’s what you’re looking for. Before he left permanently, he did try and convince a few of us to go with him. Talked up some shit about this new group, but to me it sounded more like a cult than anything else.”

Lucifer sidesteps, and for a moment Chloe hopes he’ll ask a question, one that cracks open the whole case in an unexpected way, usually frustrating her to to end, but he simply leans back on the one-way mirror and crosses his arms. At least he studies the henchman closer now.

Chloe withholds herself from sighing. “Do you remember any details?”

That gets her a half-glower. “Imma be honest with you, I didn’t listen to Gulliver most of the time, especially after he announced his intention to leave. Although he started to seem suddenly disturbed by all the jobs we would do for the Boss, despite his consequentialist views. Wanted to reform himself, but knew his shady history didn’t help him.” He shrugs again. “I suppose these people were his only way to get what he wanted.”

“What _did_ he want?”

“Not exactly sure, but he always said ‘right the wrongs in the world.’”

_‘A wrong has been corrected.’_

The two phrases sound awfully similar. Much too similar to be a coincidence, considering the known connections. Gregory Gulliver and this serial killer have the same ideas on justice, one that comes with an idea to take justice in their own hands.

Chloe nods, one hand to her chin. “All right. Anything else you have for us?”

The henchman leans back into his chair. “That’s all I got for the Gulliver front.” He laughs. “I wonder what he thought, when he was dying. If his ends were justifying his means.”

Chloe had the same exact thought. What means was Gulliver reaching towards, when sacrificing himself? To place something above his own life, meant two things.

One, it was either something priceless.

Two, he is crazy enough to have been convinced to kill himself.

Shaking her head, Chloe tells herself to think that through at a later time. She raises her eyebrows at Lucifer. “Do you have anything to ask?

Lucifer takes a long inhale, then sighs loudly. Shakes his head.

She pinches her nose. _Give him time,_ she thinks. _Don’t push him_. She turns back to her informant. His circular tattoo peaks out from under his orange short-sleeve jumpsuit “Okay, what about your tattoo? Can you tell me about them?”

“Tattoo?”

“Yes, tattoo.” Chloe gestures to his upper arm, near his shoulder. “It’s how we connected you to Gregory Gulliver’s murder. We know it is the symbol of the Sinnerman’s gang, but why is yours placed somewhere else?”

“Ah.” The henchman smirks, hooded eyes full of malice. “Where was Gulliver’s again? Was it his calf or ankle?”

“Forearm.”

He snorts. “Guess the fucker was a little higher up than I previously thought.”

Chloe slides into one of the silver chairs offered to her and Lucifer. “Does that mean the position indicates level of authority?”

The henchman nods. “Yeah. I won’t tell you the exact order, but the closer you get to the shoulder, the more power you have. So I,” he puffs his chest out proudly, “was one of Boss’ inner circles. Mine is almost the exact same as his, but on the opposite arm.”

Chloe’s mind goes temporarily blank for a moment. She can’t remember if Marcus had a tattoo, although from the man in front of her, she knows it would be on his right arm. Wouldn’t she have noticed such an odd, gangled mark? If she could think of anything, it was a much larger tattoo, but thinking about her various beach days, their nights spent… she almost gags, thinking of what else they did with skin exposed. She forced herself to, and blank, smooth skin came to mind.

In fact, she suddenly recalls, from the police report from Pierce’s death, there were no mentions of tattoos. The pictures of his torso, his arms, where clean.

“Are you sure yours matched the Sinnerman?” Chloe questions. “You might have been misguided.”

Shaking his head, the henchman explains, “Nope. It did. Or at least, when it was there. Since rank is based on tattoo placement, we use a special ink that disappears after a few months. You either get re-inked in the same place, or promoted or demoted.”

Lucifer chuckles and shakes his head twice. His fingers tap in a twitching manner.

“Interesting.” Chloe’s head falls into her hands. She wracks her brain for another angle, another question, and the henchman watches her with a bored expression. He has nothing better to do, with his leader dead, and gang dispersed. Yet Chloe cannot think of anything, and after thanking the man for his information, takes a gentle hold of one of Lucifer’s hands and pulls from from the interrogation room.

“Well, we learned a lot!” She says, attempting to be positive in the lack of Lucifer’s usual shining countenance. 

“We did?” He asks. “To me, it sounded like we didn’t get a name, location, or motive.” He watches Chloe as she settles back into her desk and looks frantically for a notepad. On her messy desk she finds nothing, but after opening and closing a few drawers she lets out a “ah!” and promptly starts writing.

“Not at all,” she finally answers Lucifer. “We got a name, Gregory Gulliver.” She writes as she says this. “I admit we didn’t get a base location, but I didn’t expect that. And we _did_ get a motive. Justice.” Ripping off the small page, she tapes on the first victims name under his eerily peaceful death photo. 

“Justice?” Lucifer asks, incredulous. “Action in the name of justice has been used to defend too many crimes.”

Still flattening the note on the board, Chloe pauses. “I’m not trying to defend _anything_. I was simply saying, in his mind, this new gang he joined is probably exacting justice.” She turns and crosses her arms. “Besides, it’s not unlike what you were attempting to accomplish when you first joined up with to track down criminals.”

Lucifer frowns. “That was _punishment_ , not justice.”

“Oh, as if that’s so different in your mind.”

Lucifer’s shoulders shift back as he stands up higher. Nostrils flaring, he asks, “You think I’m no better than this scum we are tracking?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, Lucifer,” Chloe says, holding a palm to her forehead. She should have known better than picking a fight with Lucifer so quickly after his altercation with Dan. His impassivity is clearly a defense mechanism, and she has pried into it expecting the hardness to extend past the shell. Of course it doesn’t. She also shouldn’t be snapping at him, although if she were to think hard about it, she’s hurt by his actions. The fact that Charlotte was more cognizant to Lucifer’s inner mind and knowledge lodged itself into Chloe’s mind, and keeps knocking over her rational thought.

His same question, from what feels like so long ago, roars in her head again.

_Would you have believed me?_

Before she can backtrack and explain herself, she spots a familiar blur coming down the stairs. Logan, a leftover bag in one hand, hops down the steps with the practiced footwork of an athlete. His intense stride is mimicked in his eyes when he finally faces Chloe and Lucifer.

“Detective Decker,” he greets them, tossing his food onto his chair. “I have something to tell you.” 

Chloe crosses her arms, waiting. Instead of spilling whatever news he has, Hansen spends the next few seconds analyzing their investigation board. “Well?”

Shaking his head, Logan asks, “What happened here?” He points to the new details of their murder.

“We just spoke with a member of Pierce’s gang,” Lucifer says, voice dull. He’s returned to making himself smaller, relaxing back onto the desk with his arms and legs crossed, pretending to study the wear and tear of his shoes that Chloe is sure will get a nice shining job within the next few days.

“Pierce? The old Lieutenant? Why?”

As Chloe fills Hansen in, the poor rookie’s shoulders droop, and his eyes become downcast with disappointment.

When she finishes, all he asks is, “You questioned him without me?”

Shame fills Chloe. She’d been so caught up in the moment, so excited by the clues, and so distracted by Lucifer’s emotional state, she had not even thought to wait for her second.

“I’m really sorry,” she says, meaning it. “I should have waited for you. I promise, next time, you’ll be right there next to me.” Logan nods, straightening up. But his eyes still avoid her gaze. “It was because of your quick orders that we got to interrogate him,” she says, attempting to please him. He still looks down. “We got some interesting info,” Chloe tries, dangling another carrot. Ah-ha! He finally looks at her, light filling his eyes. “Seems like the gang we are after has a personal vendetta against those that wrong others.”

“Huh,” Logan says, placing his bag of leftovers on his chair. “Taking the law into one’s own hands never seems to work out, at least in the movies.”

“How very astute,” Lucifer sneers. Logan, ever stoic, ignores Lucifer taunts. 

“What does that mean for our next move?”

Well, that is the current million-dollar question, isn’t it? 

“Honestly, I’m not sure. We have these new connections, but no way to anticipate a next move. I have a few ideas that I want to run by you two, but first… you said you have something to tell me?” Chloe says. A blush runs up Logan’s neck and rubs the back of his head. 

“Yeah,” he says, suddenly shy. “You know how you mentioned reporters earlier this morning?” Chloe nods. “Well, a few rushed me just as I was returning from my lunch break.”

Anxiety takes a hold in Chloe’s stomach, making it crash in unnerving waves. “They did? What happened? Did you tell them anything?”

Logan continues rubbing his hair, the nervous gesture increasing in force. “Well, we didn’t have much to go on, at the time. I didn’t know about our two leads. So I may have sorta told them as such, in my panic…”

Chloe curses and slams her fist on her case board. That tidbit will be eaten alive by the news. From what she can garner from the attacks from this morning, the news is already trying to make her look incompetent. Why, she isn’t sure, considering her closure rate. Of course, she knows from past experience that trying to rationalize the press is a fool’s game.

Logan clears his throat and Chloe twists her neck to a glare at him. “That’s not it…” he trails off at Chloe scowls.

“Out with it,” Lucifer growls for Chloe, and Logan lets out a small welp. 

“They pressed who I was, and I finally admitted I’m a new policeman! Not even a detective. For some reason, they thought that was interesting.”

Chloe lets her head drop to her chest. It shouldn’t matter, a good crime solver is a good crime solver. And people have to learn somehow. But of course it will matter to the press. On a murder case, people want to see officers with high arrest rates and good numbers to back them up on the investigation. Having a rookie will not look great in the public eye, especially with how the journalists will twist the story.

“Okay, okay.” Chloe thinks. “That simply puts some extra pressure on us. Nothing we can’t handle.” After a few deep calming breaths, she faces her team. “So. My ideas.”

* * *

The next steps are not complex, nor are they assured to be progressive. But they’re all they have, so Chloe, Lucifer, and Logan chug along with Chloe’s orders.

With Chloe convinced the motive is solidly justice or vengeance, whatever the gang wants to call it, Chloe figures it leads to an expectable opening of exploring why Gregory Gulliver died. He’d been a criminal, yes, but a part of the organization. Killing one of their own is not uncommon in gangs, but his state _is_ questionable. Bringing to light that his death is in fact a suicide, like Chloe thinks it is, could help provide even more direction to their investigation. In order to not risk an accusation of bias, she puts Logan on that task. With a pound of his fist onto his chest, Logan nods and departs to gather materials.

For Lucifer, she assigns the burden of trying to figure out the name of this organization. There is hardly any information to go off to do this, but she trusts Lucifer and his ingenuity. He’s pulled more ridiculous things out of his ass before, not to mention the tattoo was his idea.

Her last idea might be the hardest, and most important. Chloe has to try to predict the next targets of the gang. From MO of the kidnapper, the gang may be focusing on exposed felons, which would make her job easier. Of course, that gave her a list of many possibilities. The LAPD has extensive files with names of those they are trying to convict and put behind bars that go on for miles. If Chloe tries to comb through that, she would spend the rest of her life at her computer. She also has to consider the fact the gang might try to expand out to those still lurking in the shadows, working with the LAPD unawares. But if Chloe went that direction, she would drive herself mad. Counting ifs, ands, or butts never helps when the ifs outweigh anything else. Ifs don’t solve problems, they just create more.

Then where does she start?

With the basics. The big-names. Other crime lords, multiple offenders, and outright disgusting people that skirt the streets of Los Angeles. 

Even that consumes time like a starving man. When the three of them began their divided jobs, it had only been creeping into three o’clock. 

She blinks, and it turns to six thirty.

Logan spreads his legs on the floor while supporting his long torso on the side of desk, Gulliver’s files, autopsy reports, and known history fanned out beside him. All data are organized as he slowly makes his way through the details of the deceased man, constructing a probable cause and eventually coming to the conclusion Chloe has about the death. Lips tight with focus, with each additional point that may be useful, Logan marks it down, and shifts the papers from one pile to the other.

On the other side of her desk, Lucifer does not appear to be making any progress. He’s fixated on photos of Pierce’s death, claiming that the connection between the Gulliver and Pierce could have a clue. Yet he has not moved on from the former LAPD lieutenant’s image for more than a few moments, and neither has Lucifer come up with another plan to figure out the name of Gulliver’s organization. That is, if you do not count the scribbled list Lucifer deposited to his left with names like _Baddie’s Club_ and _Misguided Fools_.

Chloe finds that diving into the files of criminals and scouring their descriptions, past, and background takes time. Each criminal takes her on average fifteen minutes to fully evaluate, some more some less, leaving her with a list of a grand total of fifteen potentials.

Her personal lack of headway pricks at her mind. She is being as efficient as she can, and coming up with _real_ progress, but not much. Not enough to be substantial. Not enough for the press to lay off of her. Not enough to go to the captain. Not enough, it’s _not enough_ …

She spots Lucifer comparing two photos in his hands. One, Gulliver’s mangled chest with the sun, and the other with Pierce’s face, still twisted in unknown victory. He sends flames from his eyes at Pierce, and shifts to look at Gulliver, all the fire cooling instantly. His eyes fill with sadness and sympathy, and Chloe finds it at the most irritating thing she’s ever seen.

She clicks her mouse as loud as possible to send her screen into sleep mode and pointedly turns to Lucifer.

“Are you suddenly feeling bad for our vic or something?”

Lucifer blinks from his daze and opens his mouth. “Not feeling bad. Pity. To make someone defect from Pierce is significant.”

“Why?” Chloe says, voice rising. “Gang defection is common, even if dangerous. And how will that help you with the task you’re supposed to be _focusing_ on?”

Lucifer sighs and behaves as if Chloe had not spoken. “Not to mention, why does there have to be a connection to the old fellow? I’m sick of him. I admit, considering he’s the world’s first murderer, I’m not especially surprised, but it’s still aggravating it always comes back to the now-mortal man.”

Logan pushes himself from the side of the desk. “First murderer? What do you mean?”

“Well—”

“Stop it! You haven’t contributed anything recently, Lucifer!” Chloe interrupts. “And now you’re spitting weird tales, derailing the other member of our team. That’s not helpful, that’s distracting!”

Breathing heavily, Chloe observes Logan’s wide eyes and Lucifer’s narrow ones. In the back of her mind she knows her outburst was uncalled for, wrong, and misguided. The best course of action is to say sorry and bring up morale. But her frustration and stubbornness block her from apologizing.

Shutting down her computer, Chloe cleans up her side of the desk and gathers her bag.

“I have to pick up Trixie from her soccer practice today, so I’m going to call it a day. She’ll be waiting for me, starving, and that’s not easily managed.”

Without looking back up at either of the men, Chloe ducks out of the building. She arrives at Trixie’s pick-up spot just as the clock strikes seven o’three, but she does not allow herself to cheer for the achievement of not being extraordinarily late like she normally is. Trixie mentions the fact it is nice to not be the last one waiting, which hurts Chloe, but she simply kisses her daughter on the head and buckles her in.

After Trixie is fed her favorite dinner —grilled cheese with an egg in the middle— Chloe melds into the couch length-wise and flicks on the television. Like normal, it turns on to the local news channel, a product of Chloe’s habit of having the station playing as background noise for when she works in the kitchen. Keeping up to date with current events is a job that continues into overtime when you work to keep the entire city safe.

After her day, Chloe shifts her finger to the On Demand button, ready to switch gears and become mindless for the next hour before collapsing into bed from exhaustion and disappointment.

Her thumb hovers as the TV screen comes into focus, and Chloe realizes what is being reported.

The story about the kidnapper is going all over the city.

A reporter which looks vaguely familiar —Chloe is sure it is one of the ones that surrounded her in the garage— explains the situation in the city as if there were spies in every district waiting to strike down any unsuspecting civilian.

“The LAPD have admitted they know almost nothing. They do not know who is being attacked, why they are being attacked, and if the oilers will strike again. Although a relatively new case, the lack of any knowledge is worrying. If we can’t assume we’ll be protected, how can we live life?”

Chloe snorts at the overstatement. Yet the more she thinks about it, she knows the public will take the words to heart. In the academy, Chloe learned fear is one of the most important tools in a person’s arsenal. Quench fear, and you get competent workers. Sow fear, you get mayhem.

She presses the _off_ button and lets the remote drop from her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you *all* for the kind comments and support from before. You guys don’t realize how much it means to me. Like I said before, I’m not going to debate on this platform, but if anyone wants to talk, don’t be afraid to shoot me a message. My tumblr is on my profile. Especially to those that expressed similar sentiment — I feel you, you are heard, and you are valid. (Also @foldedpages LMAO very true).
> 
> Thank you all for continuing reading my fic, it means the world. Sending love from California.
> 
> (Also as a side note I hope it's clear Chloe's getting pretty stressed out lmao. So some of her actions may seem OOC, but that's because she's under a lot of pressure.)


	8. Playing With the Big Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song from the amazing movie, The Prince of Egypt. If you haven’t seen it, please do so now. Seriously.

The days blur, and the death toll rises.

And with them, come new messages.

For the black market gun salesman: _An eye for an eye, a gunshot for a gunshot. We all get what we deserve._

For the sex slave businessman: _Just as S’dom and Amorah which indulged in sexual immorality_ , _you will burn in an eternal fire._

For the stock market trader that used private information: _He who trusts in his riches will fall, fall far to their demise._

For the accountant that embezzled funds: _Dishonest money dwindles away, and so do you._

For the drug lord targeting poor communities: _Who has bloodshot eyes? Those you target, and now you become one._

For the reported rapist with a high-salary job: _The man that forces himself and lies with woman shall die._

Each one, with a personalized note. Chloe examines them all, the pile increasing steadily. The meaning of their cryptic nature eludes her mostly, but they make sense in practicality. Each refers to the method of the criminal’s death, from gun wounds, overdosing, to being pushed off a cliff. All the bodies were found in various states, never the same, always matching the note. 

The evidence pointing to organized crime is staggering, and Captain Zerah agrees. However, it doesn’t do Chloe much good. 

Chloe’s list has grown extensively, and although the progress fills her with a sense of accomplishment, it comes with dread as she realizes she has no way of placing surveillance on all of the targets. Despite the known futility, she’d gone and practically begged Captain Zerah for the power to track the criminals. His answer came as expected: putting aside the lack of manpower that would be required, the LAPD did not have the budget either. And most crushing, he said Chloe’s lack of finding the culprit put him in a difficult place. He couldn’t green light any costly directive without substantial evidence, not with the scrutiny of the public eye being so vigilant.

“Have you _read_ the victim reports? Each one was on my list of high-risk targets. You cannot call that a coincidence!”

Regardless, Zerah refused her with a solemn shake of his head.

Now, she is stuck in an oxymoron fit for the gods. She can’t get the resources she needs to make progress, but she can’t make progress without the resources she needs. She pours into focusing on the new victims, trying and failing to find a hidden network, any connection.

To make matters worse, news about the castigators spreads all around Los Angeles has spread like wildfire. The city feels split in two, half the people calling for the gang’s justice, the other half supporting the murders. If the police can’t stop these twisted people, why not this group? They’re only targeting criminals, after all. At least, that’s what the networks are saying.

The news demands more and more statements, but Chloe has nothing to offer.

After their previous big break, nothing else is coming up. Chloe eggs on Logan and Lucifer, but their bleary eyes tell her they’re coming up empty too. Lucifer and Logan, ever the saints, try to reassure her. They bring in lunches, always keep her coffee mug full, inquire about the wellness of Trixie.

She _knows_ they’re trying, and she offers them toothless smiles, but she also knows they see right through her. Logan’s well-put together look falls apart a little day by day. His hair is more disheveled, his previously nicely ironed blue uniform has turned wrinkly, his shoes become untied more often than is normal. Trying to find evidence of suicide increases in difficulty day after day. More than once Logan tried broaching the subject of dropping the idea, but Chloe had none of it.

And Lucifer… Chloe still has not apologized for raising her voice at him.

His growing agitation and her growing concern and stress over the case has greatly overshadowed any romantic moments they’ve been allowed to have. Given Lucifer’s experience with real relationships, most of the burden of holding the ship afloat fell to Chloe. He’s tried, but after Chloe snaps at him he closes up and mumbling an apology walks away. Every time Chloe feels bad, and reaches out to apologize on her own, but her attention is then always torn away by some flicker of hope regarding the case, and the moment has passed.

He’s pretending it doesn’t bother him, he’s acting as if they never even happened. But she can see it weighing on him. She can see the strain in his posture, the lack of wrinkles by his eyes when he smiles, the lifeless chuckle. It breaks her heart, knowing she did that to him, but did she lie? He _hasn’t_ contributed anything of worth since his premonition the tattoo would spark a lead. And she can see now it was nothing more than a fluke, like most of his insights to cases. She needs more solid evidence, real leads, before her case is completely forfeit. Yet, rejecting him completely for the moment, when her full focus on the case is necessary, seems outrageous. She couldn’t do that, not to him.

Deciding to hit the nail on the head, Chloe stands from her desk. Prompted by the movement, Lucifer and Logan both look up.

“Lucifer, can I talk with you? In the interrogation room?”

Even if her wording is ominous, she tries to make her voice light. Lucifer stares at her blankly as though he cannot fathom why in the world she would ask this. That, or maybe he is just trying not to show any reaction. Chloe’s reading on him is worsening the further she distances herself from the man, which fills her with sadness. She _has_ to fix this.

Silently, he follows her to the gray room. The lights are old, needing replacement, and cast a long shadow over Lucifer’s face. Her eyes are dark and deep, but as the light flickers once, Chloe thinks she sees something else. Trepidation.

He continues staring at her with that empty look, and all the pressure, all the stress, boils over.

Chloe blurts, “I’m sorry!”

Lucifer’s head bobs back, eyes widening. Any emotion he had been holding back bursts through, and he smiles in relief.

“Oh, is that what this was all about?”

Confusion bubbles in Chloe’s mouth. “Wh-what?”

Lucifer crosses his legs and leans back onto the wall, now the perfect picture of relaxation. “You had me bloody worried for a moment. Well, several. I thought something truly distressing had happened, given your actions recently.”

“My actions?”

With a nod, Lucifer gestures in a general manner up and down at Chloe. “You’ve been awfully moody, which is rare given your past disposition for recovery. Not to mention your tendency to fall into fits of silent rage as of late. It’s been slightly frightening, and not much scares me. I’m glad you are getting over it now, and apologizing. Of course I accept. Shall we go back to the case now?”

He starts to the door as though he is walking on a breeze, but Chloe stops him with a hand on the knob.

“You… you don’t think _you’ve_ done anything wrong?”

Lucifer’s hand retreats. “Me?”

“Yes, you. It’s not just me, Lucifer. There are two of us in this relationship!”

Crossing his arms, Lucifer tilts his head looking like a lost bird. “All I’ve done is do as you’ve told me, and work on my assignment for the case. What could I have possibly done wrong?”

Shaking her head, Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose. “First of all, your actions are not exclusively related to the present.” She cannot _believe_ he does not get this. On second thought, actually, she can. He’s Lucifer. He needs this spelled out for him. “For starters, you didn’t apologize for telling Charlotte about the Sinnerman. And you haven’t even tried to make things better with Dan!”

Lucifer bares his teeth in disgust. “You’re upset with _me_ because poor Daniel cannot seem to get it through his thick skull that I am not responsible for that woman’s actions? I already apologized, but he doesn’t seem to understand anything, the moron!”

With a groan, Chloe tosses her arms down. “Maybe he would understand if you had one conversation where you didn’t offhandedly insult him! You know, he is the father of my child, you need to get along at least a little bit!”

“But _you’re_ the one I care about!” Lucifer’s voice cracks. “ _You’re_ the one I l—”

“Lucifer!” Chloe cuts him off. “That isn’t the only important thing. To be in my life, you also need to accept, and be accepted, by those in my life.”

The whites in Lucifer’s eyes have never been so exposed. “Where in Dad’s name is all of this suddenly coming from?”

Where, indeed? Chloe thinks about that for a second. They’d never actually resolved anything. Maybe they resolved some sexual tension, but truly they’d just finally admitted what they had been skirting around for years. All of their issues, communication or otherwise, are still unspoken, and with Chloe’s stress, they are being unveiled. Pouring out, unrestrained.

“I’m not so sure it’s all that sudden,” she whispers, tilting her head to cover her eyes with a tasteful shroud of hair.

_Her life._ It’s been crazy, too crazy, as of late. She has not had a minute of respite for what seems like forever.

She lowers her voice. “I mean, we also have had barely any time to absorb what’s happened since we got together.”

“What do you mean?”

Pivoting in place, Chloe circles a hand in the air. “Pierce, the Sinnerman, your fervor with the knife. None of it has really ever been explained. And then everything went to shit again! Will we ever get a rest? Will I ever just get a _moment_ with you?”

Lucifer falls unexpectedly quiet, his voice rumbling, “We _did_. We tried before. And then—”

The memory shoots in Chloe’s mind. She turns around to face her back at Lucifer. “I know what happened!” She flushes. “But I don’t only mean the physical. We _have_ the physical, I know that, but you have to admit, we need to work on the emotional.” She turns back around. “We both have baggage. But we shouldn’t shove it away, we should help each other manage it.”

The pain on Lucifer’s face is apparent. He turns to the ground, and the shadows of the room cover his face entirely. 

“I thought… my baggage, detective, you told me to shut it,” he says, working with the metaphor.

She shakes her head. “I never said that. I’ll always want to support you.”

The shadows contort when Lucifer crinkles his forehead. “You said no more Devil talk. I’m pretty sure that’s my baggage, although I can double check with Doctor Linda.”

Chloe cuts her arm through the air. “Just, no more metaphors! Speak to me like we’re equals. Metaphors sometimes help, but not in this case. Help me understand, Lucifer.”

Holding his head by the temples, Lucifer shakes and shakes his head. “I…”

“Detective Decker,” a secretary pokes his head into the interrogation room after a soft knock. “Channel 7 is here again.”

“Just forget it,” Chloe whispers, and walks away.

* * *

The rest of the day falls in a cold quiet, with Logan not-so-subtly shifting his pale eyes from Lucifer to Chloe and back again. Logically, Chloe knows the interrogation room is sound-proof. No one could have overheard their conversation. It still seems from Logan’s jump when she glares that he is aware of more than he should be.

Regardless, the quiet refocuses Chloe. Trying to put Lucifer out of her mind, at least for now (which is hard given the fact he’s less than three feet away), she resolves to try to find anything that stands out. No more connections. She has too many. Now, she wants inconsistencies.

Going over the stack of too-late-threats, Chloe scans each one to try and decipher the syntax. It feels old-fashioned, but random notes, blackmail, they all follow that tendency. For some reason, people tend to think it makes them more alarming. Really, it comes off as cliche.

Finding a whole lot of nothing, Chloe deposits note after note into a growing pile of the last week’s threats to her right, until one stops her.

S’dom and Amorah, though. Odd names. Oddly specific.

“I’ll go deliver this batch to Ella,” Logan announces, swiping the papers by her side. Chloe mumbles a meaningless acknowledgment, letting the policeman do as he said. She thinks about telling him to be back in less than ten minutes —his visits to the forensic scientist have been progressively lengthening— but she lets it go. Maybe he just needs time to decompress, and Ella certainly is always ready to offer a bright smile and a fierce hug.

Moving to her computer, Chloe catches Lucifer glaring at Logan’s back. She hears the familiar sound of Ella’s lab door closing, but Lucifer narrows his eyes. Following the path of his stare, she finds he’s looking straight at her clear walls, obstructed by blinds. There’s a small crack, however, revealing a lower slice of Logan and Ella’s faces.

“Are you _reading their lips_?”

Lucifer jolts from his concentration. He bites his lip. “Yes. Those two have had… interesting conversations as of late.”

“Lucifer, that is totally not okay.” Is he serious right now? “You have to realize that’s a violation of their privacy.”

He opens his mouth, then stops to contemplate. With a final side-eye at the pair, he says, “I’ll stop snooping and get back to work.”

_Work_. Right. With that resolved, Chloe turns to her computer and copies the words quickly, searching _S’dom and Amorah_.

**_Did you mean: Sodom and Gomorrah_?**

Deciding to trust Google, Chloe clicks on the correction. 

Stories of sin, evil, and immorality flash on her screen with every followed link. Two cities from the Book of Genesis, doomed to an end by sulfurous fire sent by god, presumably carried out by angels.

Not surprised, although annoyed, Chloe groans. This, with the whole pharaoh-symbol thing, proves beyond a shadow of a doubt this organization is religious. Of course they are.

“Something wrong?” Lucifer inquires, voice still.

“Why does it always have to do with God?” she asks.

Lucifer cackles. “I ask myself that every morning, Detective!”

“Detective, Mr. Morningstar!”

With a chair swivel, Chloe sees Logan call for his team, Ella in tow. Her usual cheery demeanor is missing, more jarring given the lack of a smile. 

“I’m guessing you have something for us, Ella?”

Setting her jaw, the scientist nods. “I’ve been thinking of this for a little while now, but didn’t want to come forward until I was sure.” She sets down a piece of paper on the table, the three investigators forming a half circle around her. Two columns run down the paper. All of the threats have been organized onto the right side, and a similar sentence on the other, with sourcing. “The first set of notes sounded familiar, so I started keeping track of them along with trying to trace them for any DNA, of which I still haven’t found anything. But with this final batch, there’s no mistaking it.”

“Mistaking what?” Chloe asks.

Logan answers. “Each note quotes a different line from the bible.”

Nodding, Ella explains, “They’re not exact quotations. They’ve been modified to fit the writer’s purpose, but they all each correlate. See here?” She points to the left column. “You can see for yourself.”

Picking up the paper to get a closer look, after a fast scan, Chloe agrees. “That makes sense with what I just found. _S’dom and Amorah_ were two cities wiped out by god for sin, although the internet corrected my spelling to Sodom and Gomorrah.”

Lucifer snots. “ _S’dom and Amorah_ are the proper ways to say it. It’s a transliteration of the Hebrew, instead of English translation which favors the butchered version Sodom and Gomorrah. Two cities that weren’t honestly that bad, in my opinion. If father decided to do the same, why, he would need to destroy the entire planet!” He laughs.

“Now we have definitive confirmation of vengeance, with a religious aspect,” Logan says. Chloe nods. “All of this murder, in the name of god… How does that make ya feel, Mr. Morningstar, sir?” Logan asks. 

Lucifer takes the paper from Chloe’s hand, and harrumphs. “A lot has been done in the name of my father, mostly without his consent. This is probably no different, just some fanatics.” He tosses the paper to the side which sways in the air until it lands on the tabletop.

“ _Your_ father?”

Ignoring Logan, Lucifer taps his chin. “I must say, for a group that ostensibly knows the bible quite well, they are very content to change it willy-nilly. Not many devotees that I’ve encountered are okay with that.” He frowns. “Humans are very… particular about the holy word.”

Hands at her hips, Chloe taps her foot. “ _Every_ note we’ve gotten could be traced to some bible quote?”

Ella nods. “Yep. Straight back to the Big Guy.” She clutches below her neck, at her now-empty chest. “He’s led us to more deaths. What’s the point?”

Casting a caring look at Ella, Chloe says, “I know you’re not… straight with the Big Guy, as you say, but think about what Lucifer said." 

“It doesn’t matter if God was actually involved or not, he still let it happen.” She turns around, and Logan offers a comforting arm over her shoulders.

Feeling as though she’s made the situation worse, Chloe returns to her train of thought. “Well, I was thinking, every single note matches up to the bible. Except for one.”

“Gulliver’s,” Logan whispers, arms still around Ella.

“Exactly. And why is that?”

“Because he did nothin' wrong!” Logan answers, excitement lighting his eyes.

Lucifer snorts. “Nothing wrong? The man was in the Sinnerman’s gang.”

“But remember what the henchman told us?” Chloe asks. “Gulliver was clearly trying to repent. His death was his final act. According to his gang, he was clean. No crime, no note.”

“This finally proves it was a suicide!” Logan shouts, clapping his hands. 

Ella turns, wiping her face. “I wouldn’t say physically it does, but the logic checks out,” she agrees.

Finally, more true progress! That day, Chloe comes home with open arms to her jubilant daughter who goes on and on about how Maze is going to teach her parkour. Chloe smiles, appreciating her excitement, but when Trixie rushes to the kitchen to heat up leftovers for dinner, Chloe pulls Mazikeen aside and makes her swear to only stick to ground level activities. Trixie is getting older, and deserves autonomy of choice, but her mother can still put limits to protect her child.

* * *

The news openly rejects Chloe’s conclusion about Gulliver. Suicide, after all of these murders? The police are in over their head, it’s time to bring in the big guns. The public uproars, agreeing with newscasters and journalists alike. The LAPD needs to hand over the case, and admit defeat.

But Chloe refuses to give up. The kills have subsided for the last few days now, and she takes that as a good sign. It gives her time to reevaluate the most current murders, look for minor slip ups, anything that can give her information.

One day, the LAPD gets an anonymous note, addressed to Chloe.

After checking it has been searched for any rigging, she rips it open, and frowns.

Before her is a scraggly script, full of harsh ninety degree angles and various dots and circles. It’s meaningless to her.

“Well?” Lucifer asks, breaking the silence for both him and Logan.

“I… I’m not postive, but this might be some language I’m not aware of. I certainly can’t read it.”

“Let me see,” Lucifer demands, extending a hand. Chloe passes the letter. Lucifer grabs it, scans it, and his eyes widen, registering some understanding.

“Can you read it?” Chloe asks, leaning in.

Lucifer shakes his head, more in clearing his mind than in answer. “Oh, I’m much better with speaking languages than reading them. This one happens to be very old.”

“Oh.” Chloe tugs her side-braid. “Well, Logan, can you see if Ella can do anything with this? It might hold some clues.”

“With pleasure,” the young man says, and scuttles away to the lab.

Glancing at her watch, Chloe exhales. “It’s time for my debrief with the Captain. I’ll be right back.”

Tapping his chin, Lucifer nods.

The walk to the captain’s office feels like the scene from Madeline, one of Trixie’s old favorites. The walkway lengthens and lengthens as she approaches, reality striking when she wraps her fingers around the cold door handle. One deep breath in through the nose, release through the mouth. Chloe opens the door.

“I’m here for my appointment, Captain.”

Zerah looks up from his busy desk, and nods, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Yes. Please, have a seat.”

Chloe obliges, worried. For all her other briefings, she stayed standing.

She dives into her latest news. “Captain Zerah, Lucifer, Logan, Ella and I just figured we received an anonymous note — an anonymous tip, if my hope is true. Ella is working on deciphering it as we speak, as Lucifer said it’s some ancient language. I think it might give us the last push we need to finally go on the offensive.”

Interlacing his fingers on the desk, Zerah clears his throat, shutting Chloe up.

“That’s great to hear, detective. But I’m afraid hope isn’t enough anymore.”

An icy feeling grows in Chloe’s stomach.

“If you don’t make _real_ progress on this case soon, I might have to reassign you, and hand over the case to the FBI. The mayor is getting on my ass, claiming the pressure of the public demands it.”

“I _am_ making progress!” Chloe says through gritted teeth. “It’s just taking delicate work!”

The captain at least has the tactfulness to look sympathetic. “I know, but it’s out of my hands. No results, no case. You have one week.”

One week!

Chloe leaves the office dejected. When she passes it along to her team members, the feeling spreads, at least to Ella and Logan. Lucifer appears to grow angry, but he doesn’t offer an explanation. With added pressure, Chloe hopes the rest of the day will be productive, but the opposite comes to fruition. They end their workday on a low, Ella still pinpointing what language the letter could be.

At home, Trixie senses Chloe’s descending mood, and tries to cheer her up with a Disney movie night. Hercules, since Trix loves Megara so much. Her proclamation, “I’m a damsel, I’m in distress, but I am _not_ a damsel _in_ distress,” Trixie has a habit of announcing everywhere. With the added, “Maze taught me how to get out of this!” The latter worries Chloe, but only slightly. She knows Maze would never hurt Trixie.

Kissing her daughter on the head, Chloe thanks her, snuggling up on the couch. She appreciates the effort, but it doesn’t help much.

* * *

Six more days.

Six more days until her failure materializes. Six more days until her disgrace elevates to insurmountable measures. Six more days, and Chloe becomes a legend. An infamous one, known for the colossal defeat of her fight against this group that had to be pawned off to greater detectives. She’ll join the debased squad after being stripped of her accomplishments, titles, and achievements, and forever be condemned to Hollywood Boulevard duty. Meter maid, to be specific.

She gags at the thought.

Six. More. Days.

She needs a fucking miracle.

On the second day, it turns out, that miracle comes in the form of Mazikeen.

The grin of the Cheshire Cat is stamped on the woman’s face, who sports a purple wig to match the allusion. Before her, she half pushes, half drags a small man smarting with fresh black eyes. His arms are bent in a painful contortion behind him as Dan flips through a clipboard, recording her bounty harvest.

The hunter shoves the man at Chloe’s desk, causing a bellow of air to knock aside a few the papers she’d been working on. Lucifer, who had been pretending to work for the last hour, shifts his glare from the Newton’s Cradle to Mazikeen.

“Decker. Found something of interest, at least to you.”

Grabbing the papers from the ground, Chloe says, “I can’t take on another case right now, Maze. I’m much too swamped, you know that.”

“This isn’t a bounty, Chloe. You really think I would waste my time trying to track a pathetic man like this?” She wags the man by the collar, who grunts in protest but whimpers when Maze raises an eyebrow. “I heard him rambling while trailing someone else. He’s part of the gang you’re looking for. Or at least, knows about it.” She flashes her canines. “He mumbled things about how everyone’s taken a pause, and he doesn’t like that one bit. So he’s taking the next killing into his own hand.”

Still half-crouched in her chair, Chloe looks up. “Are you serious?” She drops the papers. Did that catch him in the stage before premeditated murder? “Is she serious?” She asks the man. This is it. This could be _huge_. 

He opens his mouth to respond, but Dan shoves an open hand between them. “You know you can’t question him until he’s in the interrogation room. I’ll go get him chained up. Come when you’re ready.”

Of course. “Right. Thanks, Dan. I’ll be right over.” She turns to pick up her station and gather any materials she may need.

Lucifer clears his throat. “Daniel, if you would be so inclined—”

“Piss off, Lucifer.” Dan keeps walking, Maze assisting.

Choe places a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, and smiles. She hopes he understands. “Let’s grab Logan from the lab, and go.” Lucifer nods and follows.

The pair, one a dark tower, and the other a blaze of camel coat, stand with their hands behind their backs, patiently waiting for their suspect to be properly chained. Logan stands by the double doors, taking a passive role. Dan gives the handcuffs a tug for good measure, then offers Chloe a slight nod before exiting.

Pulling on his cuffs, the man tries to lean as far back as possible in his steel chair, turning his mouse brown hair away from the couple.

“Is it true?” Chloe breaks the silence. Her voice feebly across the room. The man pointedly looks up to the ceiling. “Is it true?” She repeats. Again, nothing.

“Why would you go rogue?” She tries a different question. With a sniff, the man rotates his neck one-eighty to look the other way.

Ah, he wants to play this game. He thinks he can outlast her, pretend silence, let her stew. Let her grow frustrated, until she explodes, and storms out of the room. Then, after no incriminating evidence was found, he would be let go. Let free.

This _murderer._

No.

She can outplay him. She’ll make him regret ever thinking he was even a player.

Lucifer takes one step forward, but Chloe holds up a finger, shaking her head once. Lucifer crosses his arms and steps back.

“I’m sure you had a good reason,” she says, beginning to circle the table. She imagines herself as Elizabeth Bennet, taking a turn around the parlor. Perfectly calm, poking at her target, until he makes a mistake. “Mazikeen —that’s the woman that turned you in— mentioned you wanted to take things into your own hands. Makes sense, considering. No new deaths have shown up, recently, at least ones that the LAPD have been made aware of. And the others, those weren’t good enough for you, were they?”

He sniffs.

“Taking out the leader of a drug cartel that provided over a third of LA’s cocaine is no big accomplishment, I’m sure. Not to someone like you.”

He shifts in his seat.

“And that big name artist, who used her sculptures as a front for smuggling.” She continues circling. “Finding her, and giving her the Goldfinger treatment. No. Big. Deal.”

Chloe stops right behind the man, where he can only turn and barely see her in his periphery.

“I’m sure _you_ , one of many, could do more on your own than your organization at full force. You, who didn’t even think to leave his wallet at home, _Simon.”_ She slaps the leather wallet to his right. Simon looks at it, and breaks.

Jutting his hands to the ceiling, Simon strains as much as he can against the chains, trying to reach Chloe.

“The other members stopped! They are too weak! We must continue our work!”

Moving to stand back next to Lucifer, Chloe asks, “Members of _what?_ What work?”

Simon slams his fists down. “They told us to stop, to let you writhe and agonize. To let you drive yourselves _crazy._ ” He cackles, throwing his whole head back.

“ _Who?_ ” Chloe demands. _“_ Who is telling you do do this?”

“Our angel! Our glorious prophet, our Truthbringer!”

Lucifer uncrosses his arms, and they dangle uselessly by his side. Chloe shakes her head and scoffs.

“An _angel?_ ”

“An angel!” Simon shouts, trying to splay his hands in the air, fighting the cuffs. “The prophet has spoken! We must show the people how they’ve wronged! We need to show people the way!” He laughs again.

Clenching her teeth, Chloe tries one more time, knowing she’s losing him. And he called the _others_ crazy. “The way of who? Who are you guys? What is the name of your organization? You’ve admitted to murder, if you give us any information, we might be able to strike a deal.”

Simon heaves, breathless from erratic movements. He stares right into Chloe’s eyes, through her soul, and the room falls silent.

“It’s time to bow, heathen. By the might of horrors, you will kneel before our splendorous power! You cannot deny the truth!"

He thrusts his torso forward and bends, smashing his head onto the metal table below the cuff lock. Again and again. His forehead cracks, leaving a muck of red on the dull drab gray.

_Good God._

Flashes Jimmy Barnes in the mental institute flood her mind, over and over again hitting his head on the plexiglass. _He's the Devil! He's the Devil, I tell you!_

She barely registers Lucifer tugging her backwards, and walking her towards the door. “Get her out of here, Logan. I’ll handle this. And clear the observation deck.”

The haze of horror continues in her mind as Logan takes Chloe’s hand and does as Lucifer instructs. He motions to those watching on the other side of the mirror, and exits. As the door shuts behind him, Chloe grabs Logan’s arm, a moment of lucidity hitting her. “Go watch, we need to make sure Lucifer doesn’t do anything illegal in there.”

“But Lucifer said—” 

“It doesn’t matter what he said. There’s still protocol to follow, and the man still has rights.”

Logan nods and swiftly disappears behind the door leading to the deck.

Clutching her head, Chloe returns to her desk, wobbling a few steps here and there. Placed neatly on the center is a fresh sheet of paper, completely unfamiliar to her.

“What now?” She asks, picking it up.

Thankfully, these are all in English.

But Chloe wishes she couldn’t read them, as the messages fill her with dread.

Pictures of past victims are stapled haphazardly across the page, familiar writing scribbled next to each, describing their pasts.

_Lucifer Morningstar wiped this person’s debt._

_Lucifer Morningstar provided her schematics of the bank._

_Lucifer Morningstar took out his competition._

_Lucifer Morningstar bailed out their sibling._

“No, no…” She whispers, going over the paper once more. But the truth is undeniable, and staring at her literally in the face.

All of the criminals, each one, was allowed to commit horrendous _atrocities_ after Lucifer worked his _favors_.

_Is_ Lucifer as changed as she believes?

She hears pounding in her head, her ears, she can feel it in her chest. The words bold and blur, mixing and morphing until they form one large mess of darkness that sucks her in like a black hole. She falls as her foundation crumbles beneath her.

“Detective?”

Slammed back into reality, Chloe finds Lucifer behind her. His hair stands up instead of being tastefully gelled to the side, and the white button under the black coat appears untucked from stretching. Signs of exertion on Lucifer’s part.

“Did you know about this?” She thrusts the paper into his chest. He catches it mid-air when she lets go, and as he scans the document, frowns.

“Of course not. I never really minded anyone much attention until I met you.”

Chloe throws her arms into the air. “I can’t believe it! All of these people were allowed to ruin lives because of what _you_ did?”

“How am I responsible for how pitiful humans behave after I’ve aided them?” Lucifer crumples the paper into a ball and tosses it onto her desk.

“ _Aided them_? That’s what you’re calling it? You helped criminals continue their bad behavior. You got them out of bad situations!”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s assuming I cared about their situations at all to know they were particularly bad.”

Chloe grabs the paper and uncrimps it. “Whatever, Lucifer!” She points to the faces. “The point is, you helped all these people, and look what they did later on! Killed, bribed, raped,swindled…”

He shakes his head. “I still fail to see why I should be held responsible for those actions.”

Chloe’s arms fall limp in defeat. “You don’t feel _any_ remorse?”

Lucifer rolls in his lips, actually having to take a second to contemplate the question. As Chloe watches him, she finds it remarkable how similar to Trixie he looks when she tries to explain why she can’t eat three bowls of Fruit Loops before bed. “But _why_ mom?” She asked, not being able to understand why sugar will keep her up all night. Chloe would have explained the concept of body chemistry, but it would have done any good. “You’ll understand when you’re older, sweetie,” is what she said instead. “I promise.”

After another moment, Lucifer shrugs. “I do admit I feel regret for the humans that have perished at their hands, but no, in terms of my involvement, I feel no remorse. I did what they asked, in exchange for favors. That’s how I operated. My hands remain clean.”

“Clean? _”_ Chloe echos. “You’re pervasive in this case, and you consider yourself clean?”

“ _Lucifer!”_

Dan’s angry voice permeates the precinct. With a dramatic sigh, Lucifer pivots on his heels and crosses his arms to face the man. Logan runs his hands over the other in an anxious gesture.

“What now, Daniel? Come back from more?”

“No,” he says, a satisfied smirk on his face. “I don’t need to do anything.” He brandishes an official-looking letter in his hand. “I got orders to take you off the case for your actions in the interrogation room. You stepped out of line, and the captain will not tolerate it. He’s not letting you get away with any more shenanigans, no more sweet talking. You’re. Out.”

Lucifer actually looks taken aback. “That’s not possible. Detective,” he turns to Chloe.

She feels unusually calm. She looks to Logan.

“What did he do in there?”

“He… he…” 

Logan doesn’t need to say. Chloe knows the answer, from Lucifer’s unruly hair, from his undone cuff. He broke procedure, and snapped.

Emptiness. That’s all she feels when she turns to Lucifer, who shrinks by the second in his black Prada suit. “You can’t control yourself, Lucifer. This isn’t working. I thought it would, with me and you. But it’s clearly not.”

“Detective—”

“No, Lucifer! I thought you’d changed, I thought…” her voice breaks, but it’s quickly removed by the void inside. “You’re contaminating me. You saw what I did in there, I practically tortured the man.”

His eyes, the only gateway Chloe’s ever had to Lucifer’s thoughts, betray everything. His hurt, his surprise, and most of all, betrayal, are clear in the chestnut brown of his irises.

“You _truly_ think I’m evil?”

She responds with a question of her own, as she finds herself at a loss for a true answer. “What do _you_ think?”

He shuts down in front of her eyes. Lucifer fixes his posture, runs a hand through his hair once and fixes his hair perfectly. His eyes turn dark and cold, forming a wall to any perception Chloe may attempt.

“I feel I’ll be on my way, then, if that’s how you feel.”

All officers in the precinct watch as the domineering man removes himself from the premises. Only four steps away, however, he stops, turning to his profile.

“I have a name, by the way. _Malachei Sheker._ False Kings. Maybe that will help you.”

Then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> Okay this chapter was also on the slower side, maybe feeling more of the same (although I hope it wasn’t). But the next one… boy, a lot will happen. And to Chloe’s comment on everything being religious — I am not attacking religion XD it’s just she’s quite sick of everything revolving around it, understandably so! That’s what happens when you hang out with the Devil, though.  
> FYI: "Malchei Sheker" is hebrew for "false kings".
> 
> —  
> Elephant in the room: SEASON FIVE!! OMG!!  
> To be clear, this is a spoiler-free story. I'll probably try to take my time come late August, but I'm still planning on watching the new season. It looks amazing, I can't wait!  
> Honestly, I'm a little stressed the new season will be coming out while I'm still writing, but given this started out as a divergence post-season 3, I'm also okay with that. Hopefully you all are, too :)
> 
> —  
> As stated, the notes after each murder correspond to a saying from the Bible (more accurately, the Tanach). In order, they are: Exodus 21:24, Jude 1:7, Proverbs 11:28, Proverbs 13:11, Proverbs 23:29, and Deuteronomy 22:25. Jude is the only one not from the Tanach, but I couldn’t find a quote I preferred so I had to go with the New Testament on that one.


	9. Death of a Bachelor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Panic! At The Disco

The last time he felt this way, his whole family had turned their backs on him. 

A startling, consuming darkness that grips him to his core grows from his stomach outwards with every step, with every movement. Who had he been kidding? Why did he expect millennia of pain to be gone for longer than just a few fleeting weeks? It was the ultimate con, the ultimate ploy. Bring him up, then tear him down.

Praise him as he rises, then laugh as he falls.

But this time, it was not Lucifer who was to blame for the inglorious descent.

Since the first body, Lucifer’s suspicion piqued. All the allusions, references, and metaphors cannot be lost on someone with life experiences that span throughout all of humanity.

Yet his most recent encounters ignited a sense of hope in his dulled soul, and there was a shred of Lucifer that longed to believe he was reading too hard into the clues, being too paranoid. Besides, the link to Cain tempted his devilish tendencies. Exposing the detective’s former partner to prove beyond a doubt what a horrid man he took the front seat of his mind.

Until.

The messages.

Each one, catered elegantly and eloquently, verses perfectly chosen. Some of them, favorites of his family. Coincidence may be ever present, but experience tampers the optimism it requires. And Lucifer ran out of that eons ago.

He quickly became determined to slow down the investigation, albeit only in his own incompetence that the office expects. Cursing himself in his own name for drawing attention to Cain now, Lucifer shifted through clue after clue coming up with nothing to contribute. In all honesty, nothing did jump out at him, but effort may have been wanting.

He should have known that it would all be meaningless, in the end. The clear goal _was_ to be discovered, but on their own terms. When enough dust had been kicked up, and a dramatic entrance could be undertaken when it all settled. He should have realized that, but unfortunately, as always, he was too slow.

The anonymous note made that evident.

_I’m watching you, brother._

Message received. Loud and clear.

But who had sent it?

That was the eternal question Lucifer could not find the answer to. Ignoring the detective’s order to magically conjure the cult’s name out of thin air, for the next week Lucifer focused on the clues of the case that would lead him to the sibling who for some reason found ecstasy from toying with Lucifer’s mind.

Of course, his first thought was it must be Uriel, but he knew all too well why that was impossible.

Thus it was back to square one, with one week to go by the detective’s timeline. He had to figure this out by himself, stop his sibling, and make sure the detective maintained her standing in the department. In a show of providence, which he should have known not to favor, the answer fell right in their lap when Mazikeen’s and Dan’s suspect shouted about an angel. Lucifer knew he had to get the name before the man fell into extreme insanity, but at what cost?  
Chloe rejecting him.

The final one-two punch to knock him out of the ring came from his blindside, one he couldn’t anticipate, and one he barely came equipped to respond to.

The speed of the drowning chill shocked him in the moment, but he was just as quick to retaliate. The threatening note provided a name, and he readily relayed it to her at that moment. It didn’t make him feel any better.

He still doesn’t feel any better. He knows that he won’t, any time soon.

Lucifer clenches the fence on his patio overlooking the city, enjoying the crunch of metal under his fingers. Destroying, that’s what he does best, right? He tore apart his family in the Silver City, he ruined Eden, and he burned Hell. He was evil. Evil. Chloe may not have spoken those words explicitly, but she may as well have. Lack of denial is one of the same as validation, as Lucifer knows. He’s an expert of evasion purely by omission.

The late night air fills his lungs, choking him. Somehow, in the night, Los Angeles piles up with more cars, more exhaust, more pollution. It reminds him how disgusting humans are, dirtying up their precious world. It reminds Lucifer of himself. Tainted, disheveled, corrupted. 

Maybe he does have more in common to humans than he thought. Does that make Chloe’s accusations hold water? Is he truly responsible for the humans he helps? It’s the age-old adage saying he’s always opposed, “the devil made me do it,” assigning blame to him when he simply tried to do his job in hell. The devil may not have made those offenders in Chloe’s case commit the crimes, but he did certainly enable them. 

“No!” Lucifer shouts. “I gave them freedom!” He shoves a finger to the stained Los Angeles sky. “I gave them what I’ve always wanted, what I’ve never been able to have! I gave them a _choice_! What they do with that choice has nothing to do with me!”

With that, he turns away from the air and storms inside. If they threw away there last opportunity at redemption, who was Lucifer to judge? Humans made idiotic decisions all the time. If he attempted to pay attention to them all, he’d spend his whole immortal simply trying to keep track of the number as it climbed with every passing second.   
Or is it his passivity that clouded his mind? At the open bar, Lucifer pauses. Is it his apathy that gave permission for the atrocities? Lucifer grabs the quarter full scotch basin and pours a single tumbler for a distraught celestial. Amendadiel always went on how angel’s were the prime example for humanity. 

Many of their siblings agreed, he thinks with anger, as he takes a quick sip of his drink, clenching the cup tight. His siblings claimed when he fell, so did humanity. Adam and Eve, the first sinners, birthed a nation of sinners, all because of him, they said.

You’re the devil, irredeemable, they said.

You’re the epitome of turpitude.

You’re unwanted.

You can never come home.

The glass shatters in his grasp, sending a cascade of alcohol to the ground.

No, Lucifer is not to blame. As always, it’s his siblings. All they know how to do is follow orders and point fingers. Lucifer cannot be shunned just for claiming agency. Just for finding his voice. 

Just for looking their Father in the eye and saying _no_.

This wasn’t his fault.

“But I know whose fault it _is_!” he growls, throwing the remaining pieces of glass at his wall. 

Lucifer’s actions back at the police station may have seemed too forceful for pitiful Daniel, but Lucifer knows it’s the only effective way of communicating with any pour human soul that’s been frenzied by one of his siblings.

Getting enough half-lucid, garbled information was difficult, but Lucifer put the pieces together enough to get a clear picture of who was behind this. But where do find them?

All these games, this corruption and corrosion of humanity, all implemented from a distance… it gives Lucifer an idea. If anything, besides being the worst, Lucifer’s siblings are predicable. Predictable, and detached.

There is only one place they would be.

With a thrust of his shoulders, Lucifer releases his wings. Instead of the harmonious chorus that typically greats him with the summon, a cavernous echo sends shivers up his spines. He knows that that means, but a quick rotation of his neck confirms it. 

His wings are dark red, and bat like.

 _Is Chloe right?_ He thinks in one horrid moment of weakness.

 _No_. 

“I am not evil!” Lucifer screams. He punches the pillar by his bed, crushing the stone and exposing the metal of his safe hidden in his wall. With two fingers, Lucifer stabs at the safe until he breaks through. He peels the metal away and grabs Maze’s knife that killed Cain.  
Brandishing the weapon in front of his face, Lucifer says, “I’m coming for you. And I’m finishing this.”

* * *

_Malchi sheker._

The words echo in her mind as the precinct’s background rumble slowly returns after Lucifer’s exit. Dan and Logan stand by her side, one still smiling triumphantly, the other with his jaw hanging open.

Despite her heart pounding against her chest so violently she feels she’ll keel over, Chloe takes control of her emotions and does what she always does. Her job.

She turns to Logan who watches the elevator door in the distance as if it’ll open again and Lucifer will strut back in, a big smile on his face treating this as a joke.

Chloe knows better.

“You heard him,” she says. “False Kings. Find them. _Now_.” Logan nods and goes running off to find any known information on the group.

“Dan,” Chloe says to get the man’s attention.

“Chloe!” He says. “Finally you did that. God, I’ve been waiting ages. I can’t believe—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Chloe inturupts as everything around her goes dark. “Just want to get this case dealt with.

With the name now known, I suspect we’ll be able to proceed with the next phase much more sooner than previously expected. Go gather the gear I’d previously outlined. We move at any moment’s notice.”

“Sure. Of course, Chloe,” Dan says. With a nod, he leaves her.

Chloe clutches the bridge of her nose as she retreats to her desk and plummets into her seat.

If Lucifer was so wrong for her, wrong for this case, why doesn’t she feel like a weight has been lifted? Why doesn’t she feel as though she’s back on track?

Why does she feel like she’s missing something?

* * *

Shimmering sapphire turns a bloody blue as it reflects against Lucifer’s wings. With the wind as his guide, Lucifer flies near to the water as he draws ever closer to his destination. Far from any large land mass, far from any boats, far from any humanity. Of course, that’s where they would be. Waiting.

Finally, in the distance, Lucifer senses the island. Shrouded in mist and fog, the island has remained a mystery to most due to the formation of spiked rocks defending the enclave deterring any curious seafarer. The power the island exudes fills Lucifer’s mind as a soft murmur, testing his presence. Being no mere mortal, Lucifer does not turn away from the feeling, and flaps his wings harder to gain speed. With every meter covered, the sensation grows. The murmur turns into a whisper, a crisp call, an alarmed shout. Lucifer calls up his own power and pushes it down. The tall pillars of stone appear in front of him suddenly, forcing him to make a sharp turn mid-air to avoid causing an explosion of rock. 

The dip of concentration allows the power to overflow into his energy, relishing in the release and growing into a roar. Snarling, Lucifer roars back and tucks his wings into a tight configuration. With expert flight maneuvers, he slithers through the sharp rocks while fighting the incessant drumming in his ears. Drumming, dissonance, scratching. Dodge, flip, block some rubble. All else blurs away and the drowning feelings threatens to become too overwhelming, even for Lucifer, until just as quickly as the rocks and fog appeared, they fall away to reveal a temperate island, humble in appearance but immense in mystery.

In a final flurry of motion, Lucifer rises dozens of feet in the air and falls to lands in a blast on the ground, kneeling. Dust rises around him, but the cries that tear apart his mind cease.

When the dust settles, the back of a pair of robin wings and a set of amber eyes greats him. 

“Brother.”

“Brother,” Lucifer hisses back as he rises from his knees. He keeps his wings out, but his sibling does not seem to be intimidated by his demonic state.

Muriel stands with on hand hanging lazily on his side, the other propped on his hip. “I was wondering when you would come join me here. I have always loved this island.”

“I never did.”

Lucifer stalks over, his siblings remaining steady in his stance. Muriel looks elegant in his pale gold toga, accented with black ties around the waist and shoulder straps. The cloth drapes severely down his chest, revealing his sparkling dark skin painted with gold vines. Matching his attire, Muriel’s hair shimmers down in a serene cascade of honey.

Muriel flicks his hair with his free hand just as Lucifer stops a mere yard away. “I do not believe you. This place is important to all of us. We all took part in splitting the land from the ocean. The amount of energy this island contains from that moment?” Closing his eyes, Muriel breathes in, raising his hands to the sky as if summoning all that power to his body. “I can taste the history, I can feel Father’s touch, I can hear our song.” He opens his eyes as he clenches both fists in the air. “I can hear you leading us in the chorus, showing us how to finalize the separation.”

“That was a long time ago!” Lucifer growls, tossing a hand to the side. He points at his brother, his wing follow the motion. “And I’m not interested in reminiscing. Tell me why you are here!”

Muriel raises an eyebrow at Lucifer’s accusatory finger. Gracefully he matches it with one of his own, pushing away from his face.

“I do not need to tell you why I am here, or what I am doing.” Crossing his hands behind his back under his wings, Muriel turns to gaze at the ocean. “But what I will say, is that you are merely a side thought in my plans. By necessity, given your pervasiveness in humanity.” He cocks his head to Lucifer. “Frankly, brother, it is disturbing.”  
Finally tucking his wings away, Lucifer joins his brother at the edge of the cliff, only to shove his shoulder. Muriel flails to the side, off balance. He flaps his wings to recover, but after he first swing, Lucifer grabs hold of his wing bone. Lucifer pinches the nerve on the backside of the wing, forcing Muriel to wail and fall to one knee.

“Stop it!” he cries. “Sammy, stop! You are hurting me!”

Lucifer’s eyes flash.

“Do. Not.” He pushes harder on the nerve. “Call. Me. _That_.” Muriel grits his teeth, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. “Now, tell me what I want to know.”

His sibling bares his teeth but offers nothing. With a sigh, Lucifer grabs Mazikeen’s knife from his pocket. He spins it on his thumb, then brandishes it under his siblings throat.

“You would never,” he says.

“You’re right, I can’t kill _another_ one of my siblings,” Lucifer stresses. “But I _would_ torture you. I got plenty of practice down under, but never on an angel. I wonder…” he removes the blade from under Muriel’s neck, and lightly brushes his wings instead. In a blur he jabs it into his wingbone, close to his shoulder.

“Ah!” Muriel cries out, but does not relent. With a shake of his head, Lucifer raises the knife again. 

No! Not again!” Muriel yells. 

Lucifer huffs. “Weak.” With a thrust, he releases Muriel who crumples to the ground, nursing his hurt wing.

“I am on a mission from Father,” Muriel admits, rubbing the arch of his wing. “But I can’t say much more about it.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Lucifer mimics his siblings, eyes turning crimson.

Muriel looks to the ground to avoid Lucifer’s gaze, his own amber eyes glimmering. “Well, maybe in my visit, I realized something,” he says. Muriel Stops massaging his wing to give it a test stretch. Finding the tryout satisfactory, he hauls himself to his feet and shrugs his shoulders before Lucifer can try a similar move to before.

“Realized _what_?” Lucifer prompts, crossing his arms.

Muriel waves his hand out to the sea, in the direction of California. “Humans, they fascinate me. They are so odd, those beings!” Muriel laughs, and throws an arm around Lucifer’s shoulders to drag him close. It takes Lucifer off guard, and he stares at his brother with surprised eyes. “Since the beginning, I have always gotten pleasure from experimenting on them. Experimenting on Dad’s favorite toys. Before, I never fully understood how they thought.” 

Muriel squeezes his forefinger and thumb close together, only leaving enough space for a droplet of water. “But over the past few centuries, I think I’m starting to finally map out a way to predict their each and every move with extreme precision.”

Flashbacks of a church, a broken piano, and Lucifer’s heart breaking fills the Devil’s mind.

“You sound like Uriel,” Lucifer says, hoarse.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Muriel insists, letting go of Lucifer. “Uriel simply studied patters. That is guess work. _This_ is _science_ ,” he says, jamming a finger into his palm, “with evidence to back me up. Uriel simply studied patterns. That’s guess work. This is science, with evidence to back me up. I do not deal with the physical world, relying on coincidences luck like a Rube Goldberg machine. I work with the mind, the psychological. Humans are swayed so easily by their own thoughts. Affect their outside world enough, and you control their inner world; if you influence a human’s mind, and you can make them do whatever you desire. Does that not sound appealing, especially to _you_ , brother?”

Lucifer steps back, shaking his head. “Muriel,” He whispers. “That’s horrifying. Why… I never suspected you, of all angels, to behave this way. You were always so quiet, so obedient. Since when have you acted like this?”

“You are such an idiot, brother,” Muriel says, rolling his eyes. “It is easier to work in the shadows. Out of sight, out of mind.” He evaluates Lucifer, dismay evident in his eyes. “I used to look up to you, you know. But now I realize you always acted out, drawing attention to yourself. That was your mistake.”

Muriel takes a step forward, and shrugs his shoulders. Any memory of injury is gone, and he displays his wings in full power.

“I learned. No one would suspect precious Muriel to cause trouble, right? I am quiet, as you said. I listen to Father.” He grins at Lucifer, throwing his wing out in a show of dominance. “But I also get to do what I want, execute his orders on my terms! I have more freedom than _you_ have ever known!”

The light emanating from Muriel’s wings shine in Lucifer’s eyes. He holds out an arm to cast a shadow over his face. “What are you now? How have you not fallen?” Lucifer shouts over the light. “Your misdeeds greatly outweight mine. I only enabled humans, you are controlling them!”

Muriel laughs. “It is all about your state of mind!” He gestures to his chest. “Why should I think of myself as not an angel? It is the pathetic humans that have subjected us to labels, calling us ‘holy’ and ‘righteous.’ I’m not an angel because of the good deeds that I do, or the errands I run for Father. I simply am.”

Muriel puts away his wings, liberating Lucifer from the pure light that stung his skin.

“I was born an angel, and I will _always_ be an angel.”

* * *

“Chloe! Chloe!”

She turns from her computer to see Logan speed walking to her desk, a determined look on his face. 

She rises from her chair. “Do you have it?”

Logan nods once. “We got it. Say the word, and we storm the place.”

Chloe opens her mouth to do just that, then stops herself. 

“No.” She crosses her arms. “The press doesn’t believe in me. The captain doesn’t believe in me. I need — _we_ need— to show we are capable. We inflitrate ourselves, with a small team.”

Logan’s pupils dilate as she talks, and Chloe grows worried. “You don’t need to come with. I understand it will be dangerous, especially for a first assignment.”

“I’m with you,” Logan says before she can say anything else. “This case has been the most interesting to ever happen to me, and I feel as though that feeling is not due to the fact it’s my first. You impress me Detective Decker. I’m honored to do this with you.” He extends his arm out.

Chloe smiles even as her heart aches. “I’m glad to hear it.” She grabs his forearm. “Together.”

After a shake, she pulls out her phone. “I just need to get one more person on board.”

* * *

Standing at the edge of the island, Lucifer glares at his brother who continues to flap his wings.

“You’ll always be an angel. Why do you care about humanity? And why _here_?”

Muriel rolls his eyes. “You think it’s a secret you flaunt around in this human city? Everyone knows. No one talks about it, but everyone _knows_.” He turns around to gaze out into the water. “When Father sent me down to Earth, I figured this was as good as a place as any to start. And then I saw how involved you were in human’s lives. In the city’s inner working mechanism.” He smiles at Lucifer. “I saw your detective.”

Lucifer inhales. “What are you implying?”

“She seems impressive, I will admit. Truthful, honest. She has integrity. And I thought…” he looks back at Lucifer, a half grin on his face. “She’s perfect.”

“What better mortal to test my theories on, than a prime specimen such as your homicide detective?”

“No!” Lucifer brings out his wings and snarls at Muriel. “You will not lay a hand on her. She’s…” Lucifer croaks out, his throat constricting against his best wishes. Blinking away the pain of a tear, he says, “she’s good. She doesn’t deserve your meddling. Please, leave the Detective alone.”

“Ah yes, ‘Detective’. That’s what you lovingly call her, correct?” Muriel asks as he turns to fully face Lucifer. “I can’t believe that’s the type of human you fell for. I used to respect you. But now? What happened?” Muriel starts walking around Lucifer who is still fighting against his emotions. “I see the shadows on your face. You don’t look the same. You spark is gone. You’ve playing hooky with what you’ve labeled as the ‘best’ of humanity. You’ve got your heart on your chest like always, and that was your original downfall. But now everyone can see it clearly. You’re walking the long road. Be careful not to get too tangled. I mean, I saw your wings. That's just _wrong._ ” He stops walking when he’s directly in front of Lucifer. “Besides, we wouldn’t like to see a permanent death of heavens resident bachelor.”

Lucifer shakes his head. “I still don’t fully understand. How have you orchestrated all of this?”

Muriel contemplates, than flicks his wrist. “I guess there’s no harm in explaining it a bit. It was easy to convince the Sinnerman's slaves of the existence of god, given all they knew about Cain. They were desperate for another superior being to cling onto, to follow. They naturally formed this cult on their own, and I simply decided to put it to real use, instead of just fun."

"And what of that mark? The shining sun?"

Muriel shrugs. "The humans made that up themselves. I guess it gives them something to connect with, something physical, besides just the idea of the divine."

“And now? Your emotional manipulation — what is the end goal?”

Muriel smiles. “You’ll have to find out yourself. A good story is never spoiled.”

“Enough!” Lucifer shouts. He runs at Muriel to tackle him in his stomach, and the two go barreling down to the ground. Feathers flying, they tumble a few paces, until Lucifer pins his sibling under him. “I'm fully over talking. No more games. No more rambling. I’m through. What have you been doing, messing with Chloe like this? What could you hope to gain? What are you forcing Chloe to do?”

Muriel looks up confused. “Forcing? No, no. The whole point is she’s doing this to _herself_.”

Lucifer’s anger enraptures his whole body, and he feels his face turn red. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's on my list. Tell me what I want to know, before I do anything rash.”

“ _You’re_ the one who needs to worry, brother!” With a heave, Lucifer feels the impact of feet on his stomach and he goes flying into the air. Throwing his wings out, he stops himself from landing hard on the rocky island.  
His sibling thrusts himself from the ground to join Lucifer. “I can stop the rush of events from crashing together. You just give me your word… that you…”

“That I _what_?” Lucifer shout through the air, flapping angrily.

“That you return to do your job. That you remember you are God’s son, and you cease this craziness of fraternize with humanity.” Arms open, Muriel flies closer to Lucifer. “You are Samael, my big brother. Please, return to us. Let me save you.”

“How dare you!” Lucifer flicks his wrist and Maze’s knife is back in his hand. He swings it in front of him, but Muriel retreats before any harm can be done.

“Eim lo a’aleh,” he begins.

Shaking his head Lucifer growls in response.

“No, stop!”

“Eim lo a’aleh,” Muriel repeats, more insistent. “Atah yode’ah –”

Angry, Lucifer responds harshly. It’s a grinding of guttural, choking sounds. Every syllabus sounds painful to create; the vibrations tremble the atmosphere. Lucifer’ sibling visibly flinches, taken aback by the permeations. 

“Shachatah et mah atah sarich –”

“I told you, I refuse to talk to you in that language!” Lucifer tries to interject.

“And I refuse to converse in that despicable atrocity you call a language,” his sibling spits back. “You’ve forgotten everything, Lucifer. Yourself, who you are. What you were. _Come_. _Back_.”

“No.”

The angel sighs, having expected this response. “Then I have no choice.”

Lucifer points his knife at his sibling. “What are you going to do in the end? Lure Chloe to her death?”

“If that’s what it takes, sure. You need to wake up, brother. You’re lost, and someone needs to kick you awake before your plaything kills you.” With a swoosh, he flaps his wings begins to return to the mainland.

Lucifer pursues him as quickly as he can. “Muriel, no, you can’t do this!”

“It’s too late, Sammy,” Muriel calls over his shoulder. “She’s already on her way. I’m going to cleanse the world. Just wait, and watch, brother. Soon, the world will be pure. It will return to its former glory, and Father will be happy.” And with a wave, Muriel disappears from view.

“No!” Lucifer shouts after his sibling. He looks all around him, moves the clouds, and guides the sunlight to help his search. But he’s gone, having used some other mode of transportation.

The feeling of dread and horror build in Lucifer. Chloe… she’s in danger, again, all because of him. Because of his stupid problems, because of his behavior. Had he not been too preoccupied with his own feelings, she wouldn’t have been as stressed as she was when they’d fought. Had he been there for her, she wouldn’t have seen him as passive, uncaring. 

He needs to repent.

Even if after all this, she pushes him away for good, he needs to save her.

Knife in hand, he flies back to Los Angeles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I am giving up all pretenses in the fact of me saying I’ll update this regularly. I do appreciate the comments, trust me. I see them! I will try to be better. But in the end, it is was it is. I *will* keep writing and updating, I promise, but it’ll happen when it happens. Sorry (ｰ ｰ;) 
> 
> (...also... we got 46 coming in 2021. I'm really happy, yall.)


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